It is funny
as you get older you have trouble remembering what happened yesterday but
events that occurred 75 years ago during your youth remain vivid in your mind.
I grew up in a wonderful neighborhood on West Fifth St. near the corner of
Dorchester St. I remember distinctly the sound of the old electric trolleys (the
ones with center doors) clanging their way toward Andrew Station or the other
way to City Point.
Often the sounds
of the Rag man on his horse drawn wagon yelling…”Rags ,rags… bring me you rags.”His
horse was so old I often wondered how he had the strength to pull his load up
our street. The affection the horse had for his owner and the owner for his
horse was a sight to be seen.
The Ice man
who drove his truck looking for signs in the window for people needing ice for
their “ice boxes”. Not many of our neighbors could afford that new fangled appliance
known as a refrigerator. It was not uncommon for the ice man to chop out 50
pounds from his ice block, heft in on his shoulders over a rubberized apron
then walk up three flights to deliver his goods. While he was gone we kids
would eat the shavings off the back of his truck. How sanitary was that.
The knife
and scissor truck that offered to put a sharp edge on your tableware. I still
see the sparks flying off the back of his truck while the women on the street
got a chance to get caught up in each others’ lives.
The truck I
remember most was the one that brought freshly cooked crabs to the street .I
think they cost a nickel. I remember devouring them on the last step of our stairs.
My mouth is watering thinking of them now.
What I would
give to hear those sounds today.
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