We had an icebox in the basement of my grandparents house, although they stopped using it when i was still small. But if there were to be a summer gathering, you could still fill it with ice and whatever you wanted to keep cold--it was as solid as the Rock of Gibraltar.
I remember when the washing machine was a washboard, a sink, a cake of soap and two strong arms.
Quote: The only time we went to a game together was to see the Mets play the Giants. I wanted to see Willie Mays in person.
roberta, was that @ the polo grounds, or shea?
I remember the kitchen floor being flooded when the tray under the ice box was not emptied.
I just want to comment that here in the UK we still have milkmen who deliver to houses. Well, on my street we do, doesn't happen everywhere! They've branched out now to eggs, orange juice and suchlike. and the kids in the school I work in bring in milk money every day... It does still happen.
Welcome Travel. While getting my A-levels I reveled in the pints of milk. The cream formed at the top...hmmm with a Mars bar it was heaven.
My Mom got her arm caught in the washer wringer one time. It was pulled almost to the elbow before she could hit the safety release.
Saturday morning, right after returning from catechism class, I would be greeted by my friend---- the reel lawnmower. Ours didn't have a catch bag like the one Tommy Ford's granddad pushed around his backyard so after making the long passes up and down the yard, one had to get out the leaf rake and make piles of the cuttings. Those were not swept into plastic bags (what's a plastic bag?) but were scattered thickly under the peonies, the forsythia bushes and the pear tree.
edgarblythe wrote:My Mom got her arm caught in the washer wringer one time. It was pulled almost to the elbow before she could hit the safety release.
Edgar, this also happened to my grandmother. She ended up with torn ligaments and permanently damaged two fingers on her right hand.
My Mom's cotton picker arms were too tough to get truly damaged by one of those things.
My mother had one of those wringer washers. It would be rolled out into the middle of the kitchen and attached to the sink to do the washing. She was never so happy as when she got her first automatic. A kenmore if I remember correctly.
On wash day, my step-father would build a couple of fires under some galvanized wash tubs. He kept a steady supply of hot wash/rinse water going more than half of the day for the once a week project. The greater part of the yard would be full of lines of drying laundry.
I remember that the wash was hung out on alternating days of the week. On the other days you were allowed to burn your trash.
Just found a pic from our old wasching maschine:
Region Philbis wrote:Quote: The only time we went to a game together was to see the Mets play the Giants. I wanted to see Willie Mays in person.
roberta, was that @ the polo grounds, or shea?
Region, It was Shea Stadium. It was the first time I was in Queens. A subway adventure.
I saw Willie Mays play aginst the Astros in San Francisco one year - Late 60s. When he hit a homer, I was so busy drinking beer and visiting, I didn't notice.
I was not a sports fan, but I remember sitting on the back porch with a bunch of kids, listening to the "subway series", the Brooklyn Dodgers against the New York Yankees. I cried when the Dodgers moved to LA!
I loved the old Yank/Dodgers rivalries. Nothing compares to it now.
Quote:Region, It was Shea Stadium. It was the first time I was in Queens. A subway adventure.
as a kid i rode that No.7 train out to shea more times than i care to remember. it was (and i'm sure still is) a creeky old el that took forever to go from times square(?) to flushing... or was it penn?
