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These memories of the mosquito man are sweet and symbolic of the safe environment we lived in during the 50s and 60s. Before reading the poem I added my two cents about the fact that we were not always aware of the dangers that lurked behind this. That is also true about almost all life. Irony adds to the poignancy of the memory.

Do you also remember "the Vegetable Man" or the "knife and scissors sharpener" or best of all the man who sold real italian ice shaved off a block right there behind his truck. I used to love to go into the rickety old wooden sided school bus to look at the neatly stacked piles of oranges and apples along with greens. Imagine, before the A&P the vegetable man would bring fresh vegetables to your street. The same was true of the scissors sharpener and the man with the lemon ices.

Most of these men were Italian immigrants who could barely speak English. They brought with them infinite patience and a real love for children. Perhaps that is why it was a positive experience for me to go into the truck to help my mother pick out vegetables.

Gone but not forgotten.

Thank you sipoet for keeping these memories so artfully alive!


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