9tUeBPJ0qj,Tgg~~60_3.JPG)
My wife's birthday, and I fixed her breakfast, fried mush and bacon, one of our favorites.
When the dishwasher is full of clean dishes, I try to keep up by washing each plate, rinsing, drying and putting away. So, anyway, as I was washing and drying, it took me back, way back, probably the late 30's, 319 South Brown Street in Dayton, Ohio.We had a neighbor family, across the alley, forget their names, but I was visiting with them one evening after dinner, and they were doing their dishes, just using their hands to get the food off. I have never forgotten that.
When I left, I went right home and told Mom that they only used their hands to wash the dishes. Mom used hot soapy water, used a dishrag, rinsed and dried them.
Then another thought came to me. There was a show on TV last night about favorite meals. That too got me to thinking. One of the early memories I have, of delicacies, was the pure elation and satisfaction I got from "taking" slivers or pieces of ice off of the ice mans wagon when he would be in the house delivering the ice. It was pure bliss and satisfaction, eating that stolen ice, probably with very dirty hands.
The sign above was hung outside the door, and whatever was pointing up, was the amount of ice you got that day. In those days, many people lived with an alley in the back of their house, so somewhere, there was a nail on the porch for this sign to hang. Some mischievous kids would sneak in and change the sign, I was not one of them, I just heard about them.
