Back to the Childhood Kitchen
March 13/2022
On my regular walk, I like to let my mind wander free. Sometimes to deal with problems, sometimes to plan for future endeavours that I hope for, and sometimes to reminisce. Which gets me back to childhood kitchen number 1. My memories start trickling back.
It was a warm, friendly, cozy and inviting, as all kitchens are meant to be. In the early 1950’s we had an icebox, not a refrigerator. There was a box near the back door with both an inside and outside door. We had an ice man who would deposit these blocks I think he would deliver these blocks several times a week. Also we had a breadman, milkman, postman, knife sharpener and junk man. The majority of them had their own wagons pulled by a horse. To a kid, this was magical especially in the winter when we had plenty of ready-made pucks, as well as a very pleasant odour that I remember well.
The milkman (Silverwoods), was especially friendly to us kids and would sometimes allow us to ride with him. He brought milk in bottles that were shaped like a square column with a rounded section on top. The cream would rise in to this area and my mom would then separate the components. No skim, 2% etc in those days.
But I digress, there were no buses in those days. We walked to and from school twice a day, being at home for about half of an hour at lunch. There was no TV, and I distinctly remember the radio serial programs that entertained us as we ate our soup. The Lone Ranger, and Our Miss Brooks stand out in my mind. The memory is misty but we had a plaque on the wall beside our kitchen table from…?, maybe the early 1900’s. An old fashion side picture of a man in a chefs apron and hat with a poem that went something like this.
“We may live with poetry, music, and art,
We may live without conscience and live without heart,
We may live without friends, and live without books,
But civilized men cannot live without cooks”
Supper time was a family affair, and Sunday dinners were very special.
Too many words, details for another time….