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Kokomo Kootsie
2/09/2002
Submitted by: - Nibbles-- Bits & Pieces
The Ragman
Early on every Saturday morning the hoarse cry of the rag man was heard as his old skinny nag with hanging head, plodded so slowly down the alley--pulling the old splintered, dilapidated wagon.
"Old rags, old iron, old rags-old iron, bring out your old rags, iron."
If there was any unwanted item to dispose of, old worn-out clothing, old torn-up sheets, towels, socks with holes, all were brought out for the old Rag Man.
Most often rags-junk was already put out in the alley the night before, if not, the Rag Man would stop his horse while it was brought out to him
What he did with the rags and junk, no one seemed to know. He surely sold it some where; that was all he had for a living. No one seemed to know his name, where he lived, or anything about him
There was no trash or disposal pick-up or plants then, only the Rag Man and his faithful horse and wagon on Saturday.
The alternative was the city dump. Everyone disposed of garbage and all unwanted items by taking it or getting someone to take it for you, over to the city dump.
There were no caretakers there--no fences or gates--and no fee to use it, as today.
People could always be seen unloading something or other,--and also loading up a piece of well-worn furniture, a bedstead, an old chair--and broken toys! Someone was always slowly walking among the debris, scavenging for a treasure among the other man's junk.
The dump was not too far from where we lived, and my grandmother would often just go over there to 'look around', taking me with her. That's where my first doll came from when I was about four years old!
My grandmother found the body of a small doll which she took home, cleaned up, and went to W.W. Woolworth's and bought a doll head for it. They had a row of doll heads on display, same as other things.
Grandma put the head on the doll and made clothes for it. I loved that doll; and had it for about two years.
One day, I left it in the yard while I ran inside for a minute and when I returned the doll was gone! Next door kids got in the fenced yard and stole it!!
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| EPM 2002 - 2005 |
Kokomo Kootsie
2/09/2002
Submitted by: - Nibbles-- Bits & Pieces
I do what I do, as far as other people are concerned to keep a semblance of sanity--a crazy world filled with crazy people
Monday, the worst day of the week. Everyone seems to have a worst day of the week, not always, Monday
When kids are telling lies, they get this glazed-over starry-eyed expression as if it were necessary to tune-out a little to pull off the prevarication.
I let fly a stream of water on this man and his dog from next door, inundating him; and he immediately let out a stream of his own-- mostly invective. He mentioned my mother, whom I was sure he didn't even know. He seemed to question my children's parentage, making a reference to the mail-man. Then he held up a digital response! All for a little spraying with water??
LINK
| EPM 2002 - 2005 |
Kokomo Kootsie
2/08/2002
Submitted by: - Nibbles-- Bits & Pieces
The Ice Man
The clop-clop of a horse's hoofs and roll and squeal of a wagon, making it's way down the street slowly on a hot quiet summer morning, brought every kid in the neighborhood and sometimes from blocks away, running from their play to the front yard; every house-wife lucky enough to own an ice box, scurrying to get her ice card put up in her front window, if not done the night before, so the ice man would know if she needed ice that day, and how much. The card was six-sided and had the numbers, 5-10-15-25-50 and 100 lbs. on it. Whatever number she caused to be at the top in the window showed how many pounds of ice wanted brought into the ice box.
Then the ice man would stop his horse in the middle of the street, never close to the curb, for sanitary reasons; at the curb, it was your responsibility--in the street, the city's--or anyone's! And he'd take his great big tongs--that all the kids were as scared of as they would have been if they were the pinchers of a huge pre-historic bug and especially in the ice man's huge hands, with his forbidding look.
Then he would pick up a chunk of ice that he had just used his ice pick to separate from the 100 lb. piece, following a line in the block made at the ice house when the water was frozen into blocks of ice.
If 25 lbs. was on the card in the window that would be 1/4 of the 100 lb. block. He would pick it up with his tongs clinched on either side and throw it over his shoulder where he always had a leather-like pad to keep himself dry and no doubt to keep from bruising too much.
Into the backdoor he'd go and put the ice in the ice box. There'd be ice for cold drinks for a couple days until the ice man's return.
The coolness derived from the block of ice would be minimal. But it did keep food a bit cool and may have kept it from spoiling.
However! No one could ever keep ice cream or jello or any of todays goodies with a block of ice in an ice box. You could have all the lemonade, ice water, you could want, or a chunk in your Coca-Cola, if there ever was one!
Not everyone had an ice box; many who did, didn't always get ice each time the ice man came around. In those days, too many had to pinch pennies; so ice was a real luxury, a treat, and to own an ice box set one apart from the neighbor who didn't own one.
How did they manage without one, without refrigeration?
A young married couple who had a baby boy just under one year old; she would go to the corner store, buy a Hershey bar, while the baby napped with the little girl next door watching him. She would take the Hershey bar over to the kitchen sink, where she would place it on top of an empty fruit jar, and then turn the tap on and run cool water over it until the baby awoke to eat part of it! Otherwise, chocolate milk!
A grandmother who prepared an extra nice dinner one evening for her large family to enjoy when they came home from work. The big cake she had baked, she wanted to make special when served, instead of the usual canned peaches with a cake. When her family was due from work, she bought 2 quarts of ice cream, and placed it in the center of the dining room table in a big glass compote. They were late getting home--and there was ice-cream soup for the cake.
A real heartbreaker for the two small grand-kids, who watched the ice cream slowly melt away.
The kids would always stay with the ice wagon, following it for blocks, away from their own neighborhood, way down the street, and the ice man would throw them small pieces of ice, which they delighted to treat as a lolly-pop. Some of the more daring or larger boys would climb upon the wagon while the ice man was delivering into a house; or even when his back was turned, and grab a huge chunk of ice and hop down, and run home with it! Some would toss a large block to the street where it would shatter and all of the kids would rush to grab a share.
This--this space in time, has to be as alien, as weird to children today, and some--many who are no longer young--but did not live in that day, and therefore strange to them also.
With the refrigerator and freezer today--ice is as common as weeds which are not taken notice of or thought about.
All sorts of goodies are enjoyed today, that came into being because now there is a way to keep them to use as needed; the refrigerator and the freezer.
And The Ice Man Goeth.
Ah! Progress!
LINK
| EPM 2002 - 2005 |
Kokomo Kootsie
2/05/2002
Submitted by: - Nibbles-- Bits & Pieces
Observations on Youth
Youth is not entirely a time of life--it is a state of mind. It is not wholly a matter of ripe cheeks, red lips or supple knees. It is a temper of will, a quality of the imagination, a vigor of the emotions.
Nobody grows old by merely living a number of years. People grow old only by deserting their ideas and ideals. You are as young as your self-confidence, as old as your fears; as young as your hope, as old as your despair.
In the central place of every heart, there is a recording chamber; so long as it receives messages of beauty, hope, cheer and courage, you are young.
When the wires are all down and your heart is covered with the snows of pessimism and the ice of cynicism, then, and only then, have you grown old.
Don't let anyone bring your down--force you to be old-- with the word 'can't'.
LINK
| EPM 2002 - 2005 |
Kokomo Kootsie
2/05/2002
Submitted by: - Nibbles-- Bits & Pieces
The Telegram Boy
There was always a tiny vise of terror that gripped the insides of older people--perhaps all grown-ups when I was growing up, at the sight of a telegram man coming down the street on his bicycle. We children soon caught the feeling while very young, and would drop our play and stand silently until he went on by, then feel a great relief, and would show it by an extra surge of energetic play.
If the man stopped by your gate, got off the bicycle and leaned it against your fence, you knew it was trouble, bad news, usually death; he was bringing you.
Phones were almost unheard of in those days, for the common man; a luxury he could ill afford. So a telegram was always sent if there was a death or other bad news; never did one ever get good news by wire! Perhaps there was not much good news around in those dark days of the end of the nineteen-hundreds and early twentieth century.
If a child saw the Telegram Man riding down the street, he'd run and call, "Mommy, mommy, a telegram man is coming down the street--and mommy would dry her hands fresh out of washing clothes, and rush to the door or window, an anxious look on her face, which your face reflected, and a fear would knife through your spine like an icicle.
And everyone she held dear--would flash through her mind in that second, that wasn't within her sight.
LINK
| EPM 2002 - 2005 |
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