Beverly remembered a lot about 1930s life in the neighborhood: "We had an iceman, Mr. Winn, who delivered ice to our houses. Few if any had refrigerators until up into the 1940s. Each house had a large cardboard square that had either a 25, 50, 75. or 100 on each side. The homeowner put the number of the amount of ice needed up in the front window. Mr. Winn would turn back the heavy tarp that helped keep his ice cool, chop off the amount ordered and hoist it up on his shoulder. He wore a thick leather apron to keep him dry. He’d come to the back door, knock, call out "Iceman!", come in and deposit the ice in the icebox. He was a friend and would stop to fix a toy or pick a child up with a skinned knee from a fall while skating. He had a number of children himself. Mother would send freshly-made cookies or jelly home with him from time to time."
"We would also stop by the ice plant on Sylvania and buy ice. It was near where Lucas Funeral Home is today. The man would put it on the front bumper of our Model A Ford car and then we’d need to hurry home before the ice melted. Sometimes my dad would stop at the Ashburn’s ice cream place and get a quart of ice cream for dessert. He’d set it on top of the chunk of ice in our ice box until dinner time. We had to eat it all at one meal because it didn’t keep. Many times Mother would say, "Bill, can you finish up the ice cream left in the carton?""
This story, authored by Libby Willis, originally appeared in the October 2013 edition of the Oak Leaflet.
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