Had to have the repairman out to fix the fridge. Drain was clogged and the defrost water was going into the fridge instead of in the pan as it should. Nothing big, and quickly fixed. However, it started me thinking of ice boxes. When I was young and newly married we had an ice box. For those unfamiliar with ice boxes it was a wood cabinet that sat on the floor with a compartment on the top for the ice. It drained into a pan under the ice box. The pan had to be emptied on a regular basis. This was no easy job. I don't care how careful you were as you walked to the sink carrying this heavy pan of water, every step created a ripple, then a wave, and finally it slopped on the floor. So pan emptying day was always floor mopping day as well. Where did the ice come from. The ice man, of course. You had a card you put in the window when you needed ice, and he stopped and carried it in depositing in the ice box. These were sturdy guys. All day going up and down stairs carrying blocks of ice on their shoulder.
Looking back, getting rid of the iceman was a good thing. Not such a good thing was the demise of the bakery truck. When I was a young housewife there was one car in the family which the husband took to work. This left his wife without transportation Since we couldn't come to them, the tradesmen came to us. The bakery truck, in our neighborhood it was Helms, came on a regular schedule with a full array of bread, rolls donuts, cakes and other goodies. He would stop and we all went out to the truck and made our purchases.
What ever happened to the Good Humour man. He had a truck stocked not only with popsicles and ice cream bars, but pecan rolls and other treats you seldom see anywhere anymore.
When I lived in Hawaii an old, frail Japanese gentleman came by every week with fresh produce from his farm. He stopped at each block, and woman from both sides of the street came out, chatting with each other as we shopped.
Home delivery of milk, eggs and butter was nice too. You left your bottles out on the back porch with a note saying what you wanted. and it was there in the morning. Stores delivered. You placed your order by phone, and it was delivered that afternoon by a schoolboy on a bicycle.
Don't get me wrong. I am all for women's lib, but sometimes I wonder with a job, responsibilties at home plus all the running around she does if the average woman has more time for herself now than she did fifty years ago.