The red tricycle and the "Indian Princess"

One of my favorite things to do was to ride on my "trike". It was red and I would zoom up and down the sidewalk in front of my house. I could only ride as far as the fire station and then back down to the end of the sidewalk, always in sight of my house. Sometimes I would stand on the back where there was a ridged platform, hold onto the handlebars and then push off like a scooter. I could ride forever. Forever was the length of four front yards. Daddy had a bicycle and at some point the tricycle became a symbol of a little kid and that bicycle was all I coveted. I begged and pleaded for a bicycle but to no avail. Then one day the answer came to me. I took my trike and rode it as fast as I could and smashed it into this big tree that grew out of the sidewalk. There, now they would have to buy me a bicycle. Well, they didn't. They were going to teach me a lesson. I got on my roller skates and went zooming up and down the sidewalk. The tricycle was history and I had moved on. Tricycles were for little kids. It was a long time before I got a real bicycle, an Indian Princess.

Chamber pots and outhouses

Our first house had all the modern conveniences with a refridgerator and indoor plumbing. We were the new people and probably always would be. One of our neighbors was a lobster fisherman. He had a two seater outhouse that had a building attached where he kept the lobsters that he sold. His granddaughter would often visit and we would play together. There weren't any other children on Main Street.
Much to my mothers' disdain, I thought outhouses were really neat and didn't understand why we didn't have one. Everyone else had one, why not us? Charlie's was really the best though, since it was a two seater. Tina and I could both go together. What can I tell you, that's just the way it was. They also had chamber pots which were kept under the bed so you didn't have to get up and go outside. We never thought about the fact that Charlie's wife had to empty them every day and clean them; they were just there.
Somewhere there should be a memory of the air permeated with the odor of outhouse, seaweed and lobster or chamber pots under the bed. Strangely enough though, there isn't.

Ice Cold Coke

The iceman then triggered a childhood memory of Charlie's store. I would walk there. It was probably a mile away. There was a long red iron bar that went down one side of the parking area. I imagine it was where you tied up your horse, back in the day, but we would hang upside down by our knees on it and swing away. There was a big red Coca-cola container in the store. You lifted the lid and buried in the icy cold water was a big block of ice and the orange, grape and coca-cola bottles. It was a nickel for a bottle, one of those "old fashioned" green glass ones, of coca-cola. The anticipation of sticking your arm down in that freezing cold water on a hot summer day was more than you could bear. He also had cases with big curved glass fronts that contained penny candy. Decisions, decisions. There were orange slices and root beer barrels and these strips of paper with colored dots and a myriad of other choices. Would it be a nickel for a drink or five cents worth of penny candy? When drinks went up to seven cents it was just too much. I'm sure he sold all kinds of other things in that store, as it was a real old country store, but for the life of me I cannot visualize anything except the sodas and the penny candy.

The iceman cometh

Stuff just sometimes pops into my head. There appears to be no rhyme or reason as to what triggers it. And so it was with the iceman. I think I was about twelve. It's summertime and it's hot and we're riding our bikes. We know when he comes, we know where he stops. We make a mad dash for the house that gets ice delivered because we know the iceman and he knows us. A great treat on this hot summer day as he chips off little pieces of ice for each of us. Some of the smallest things can create the biggest pleasures. Ice cold water drips through your fingers and your tongue starts to get numb. I don't think we ever considered the fact the there was someone who used that ice to keep their food cold since they didn't have a modern refridgerator, or the fact that there were enough people that didn't have one that it kept the iceman in business. How could you not have a refridgerator? These people didn't. They had what was called an icebox. We never gave it a thought. We just enjoyed one of life's simple pleasures on a sunny afternoon.