Silicon Investor (SI) -- The First Internet Community

STOCKTALK

We've detected that you're using an ad content blocking browser plug-in or feature. Ads provide a critical source of revenue to the continued operation of Silicon Investor. We ask that you disable ad blocking while on Silicon Investor in the best interests of our community. If you are not using an ad blocker but are still receiving this message, make sure your browser's tracking protection is set to the 'standard' level.

Pastimes : BS Bar & Grill - Open 24 Hours A Day -- Ignore unavailable to you. Want to Upgrade?

To: Volsi Mimir who wrote (661)	3/2/2001 10:07:41 PM
From: Ilaine	Read Replies (3) \| Respond to of 6901

Horse drawn wagon reminds me of something - when I was a kid living in the St. Thomas Housing Project in New Orleans there were ragpickers that would come around driving a horse drawn wagon. I have no idea what a rag picker is, actually. I think he bought stuff that could be recycled. And there were men who had horse drawn wagons with produce in them. In New Orleans these guys persisted for many years. When I was way past full grown, I would stop at a wagon on Tulane Avenue and buy bananas, but the prices weren't really better than a grocery store and neither was the quality. These were black men. And there was an Italian man with a hurdy gurdy and a Capuchin monkey, wearing a red vest and a red cap, with gold embroidery. He'd play the hurdy gurdy and the monkey would dance, and then the monkey would go out in the crowd and hold out the cap for tips. The monkey always seemed nervous and kept looking back at the master to make sure he was doing it right. There were girls who were old enough to go out with boys, and when they went out on dates they always wore poodle skirts and lots of crinolines. I was in awe, I was sure that someday it would be my turn to go out on dates wearing a poodle skirt and at least three crinolines. I remember one of the girls I envied the most was named Gloria, and she dated a guy whose name escapes me now, but I may remember it, something like Newton. I do remember a confrontation but not the reason why, but the reason it sticks in my mind is that he chased us across the courtyard, and we ran under a clothesline he didn't see, because it was dark, but he ran straight into it, and the line caught him on the throat, and he swung on the line on his throat and went down.

To: Volsi Mimir who wrote (661)	3/2/2001 10:15:19 PM
From: PMS Witch	Respond to of 6901

The milkman delivered from a horse drawn wagon. He'd load his basket and walk from house to house, cutting across front lawns, while the horse would pace him on the road. When his basket emptied, or more correctly, filled with empties, he'd only need walk to the road and refill. The milkman was the only delivery person left using horses. The others used trucks for bread, ice, and coal. The knife sharpener used a bicycle adapted to a push-cart. The ice man's truck was filled with ice, and covered with a tarp. This tarp was covered in straw. As more families discarded their ice boxes in favour of electric refrigeration, his visits became quicker with fewer stops. He'd bring the ice to back doors, carrying it with giant tongs. Sometimes a block of ice would break and we'd pester the guy for the scraps. We'd rub it on our foreheads and necks, pass it around, and thoroughly enjoy ourselves before going home to mothers puzzling over how we received frostbite in July. The bread man, who drove a truck, wasn't exciting at all. People would put a sign in their windows to let him know where to stop. When people would get treats from him, such as butter tarts or cakes, it wouldn't be noticeable. Coal delivery was a bit of fun. The truck would back up to the house, a spout would be installed between the truck and the coal bin, and the stuff would pour in. Coal would outline a good hop-scotch game, but was inferior to chalk. But still, my favourite was the milk man and his horse. And horses seemed so big. The feed bags would hang on the rear of the carts. In winter, they'd shiver. A horse shivering is quite a sight. It looked like their skin moved a foot each way. The dairy stopped using horses when I was an early teen. At first, I didn't miss them, but I sure do now. Cheers, PW. As a late teen, I had a friend who had a horse, but that's another story, and a long one.