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.