The Old Neighborhood Chapter One

My sister is doing a project on our old neighborhood, and asked me to write down some memories. So here I go. I remember an old fashioned neighborhood that had a milkman, Mr. Bell, a baker Mr. Blum, and a mailman Wilbert. Wilbert came up on the porch everyday with the mail, and loved to kid my sisters about letters from their boyfriends. My grandfathers dog may the newspaper several times because everyday he went to the bus and met Wilbert and walked the entire route with him. According to legend my sister would walk with Wilbert and get cookies sometimes. I forgot Vicient, he was the fruit and vegetable man. As a child I learned the art of bumming from the vendors that came to the door. Mr. Bell would give you gum, some ice, and on a good day even free orange drink. Mr. Blum could be good for a couple of cookies and sometimes a doughnut. You might get some cherries from Vicent.

As Quinn kids we caught the tail end of an era. There were neighborhood bars, grocery stores, and it was a whole different time on the planet. People were trying to put World War Two behind them, but attics had old guns, bayonets and other war toys for us to play with. Our house was surrounded by doctors, and some of them saw the worst of the war, I don’t think they totally ever got over it.

Our neighborhood was a wonderful old fashioned place where people had big porches on the front of the house, we had one of the best with a swing. Our porch sat high on the corner lot where we lived and it was like a command center for the world. In those days you could walk up and down the street and talk to people like old Mr. Smoot. Mr. Smoot was the old retired railroad guy that sat on his porch and held court for the kids. Mr. Smoot taught us rhymes I still remember. Mr. Smoot told us how the railroad bums used to drink “Open Switch”. According to Mr. Smoot “Open Switch was buttermilk and gasoline. It would certainly open your switch. Stay tuned for tomorrows installment of “The Old Neighborhood.”