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Right you are, Art, that was then and this is now.

Then it was the knife sharpener, with the resounding bell made from an old automobile wheel drum.

Today it's apt to be the mobile molester.

Gad, I remember all the delivery trucks: Dugan's for bread and rolls and buns. The coal truck, before everybody switched to oil around '48 or '49 (that's 1948 and 1949, wise guy) and our coal bin was converted (by Leo the magician) into a bedroom for me to be safe from nuclear attack in all during the Cold War and under-the-desk air-raid drills and air-raid sirens going off at noon, and sometimes by mistake at other times, and you thought it was a malfunction, except for the neighbor who took her kids into the basement and hid for hours. How we laughed at her. Just doing what she was trained to do, poor thing.

Vegetable delivery, ice delivery, s-t-r-a-w-b-e-r-r-i-e-s, the man sang out, for those, and, of course, the S.I. Advance truck, and jingle, jingle, the kids came running like Pavlov's dogs for the Good Humor man. Toasted almond, orange ice, vanilla with chocolate covering, Eskimo Pies, double-sticked ices, where you got two wooden handles to weave into rafts to float down the gutter, after you tired of picking up sweet, tobacco-smelling cigarette wrappers to peel the silver (aluminum) foil from to roll into a ball.

And the milk man, who put bottles on the top step. He was always good for a piece of ice. Last time I had a good piece of ice was when? A long time ago.

What do we have today, that delivers?

UPS, DHT, AERO, and all kinds of other express companies. And not a good piece of ice in the bunch.

Think I liked it in the old days, when I was too young to appreciate the passing scene.


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