When I was a kid, there was always something going on in my neighborhood. I remember the daily routine of the milk man and bakery guy showing up each morning, first with horse drawn wagons and later in little trucks. The mail was delivered twice a day and the trash as well as garbage wagons picked up twice a week. And it seemed that there was a coal delivery for someone every week. And this was just the beginning.
Ice was still delivered to homes until well after WWII ended. People used to put little signs in their front windows to indicate how much they needed. In the summer the boys on the block used to wait for the ice truck to pull up; and when the man was delivering his frosty product, we would hop in the back, grab a few slivers then high-tail it to the corner before the man returned from making the delivery, and then sit on the curb in front of the corner grocer’s to enjoy this free treat. When he chased us away, we moved to the other corner were the drug store was located. We used the same curbs to eat watermelon, if we were lucky enough to get a slice, and see how far we could spit the seeds. Around Halloween, even though the cement was cold, we plopped ourselves down to eat pomegranates because our mom’s didn’t want us getting the red stuff all over the house,
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Why does your community need an Arson Watch Program? Well, about 10 years back one of our franchisees in our company had all his belongings lost in a fire in the Conejo Valley in California adjacent to the Santa Monica Mountains. He was not alone as whole neighborhoods and 10′s of thousands of acres were destroyed in under two days.
The following year the fires were back bigger than ever before. This time half the city of 100,000 people were in danger with half of Malibu CA over the hill cut off. Many lost their homes and few lost their lives unable to get out of the canyons in time. The fire moved so fast there was little time to escape. This year the fire was believed to be arson related, although no one was ever caught. That year there were other fires all burning simultaneously around Northern and Southern CA and parts of Northern Nevada.
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From blocks away you can hear the ice cream man’s call. A warbled melody of “Turkey In The Straw,” or some other musical oddity, crying out to children’s ears. Within seconds a chorus of “ICE CREAM MAN! ICE CREAM MAN!” sounds. Kids throw down their baseball bats, climb out of pools, leap from the couch and race outside. The truck turns the corner. Kids panic. They rush back to their parents for coins or snatch money from piggy banks. Anything for a Big Stick, 50/50 Bar or Bomb Pop.
I remember those days.
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