It's interesting, Shirley. I give a talk, "What Ever Happened to Sunday Dinner?" So many say to me, "You wrote my story." I love it. But my reply always is, "Write your own. It's in there, and it is important." So, Shirley, git goin'!
When I was nine years old, my family moved from a cold water flat to our own home with steam heat and hot water. The smell of the heat, the warmth and the cacophony of the steam pipes and radiators is a "warm" memory. This memory is surpassed by the pride my parents felt owning their own home and providing comfort for me and my older sister.
They worked hard and saved. Their example thought me what dedication, setting goals, hard work and most of all, love. means. They also thought me about helping other in need through their example. Bringing food to the sick, elderly, and poor and help paying for fuel for the kerosene stoves that stilled heated many tenements of many of their friends. I am grateful my parents' example helped me learn we are not alone in this world, and we must help our neighbors in need.
This is a beautiful note full of love, John. Thank you for sharing it with us. It's an example of giving back to the community because of what the community and your parents gave you.
And oh yes, the kerosene stoves. I remember them now. Dangerous but necessary.
I bet my dad would have an answer for you as he hefted that metal trash can full of coal ashes up the cellar stairs and out to the curb for pickup. lol. I still have steam radiators in my 100 year old house and welcome those noises in the night. Yes, I have my own radiator key and “bleed” those iron monsters every winter like my steam fitter dad taught me.
ed, my job was to make sure the water level in the boiler didnt get too low. I had to check a glass tube every day. my mother also used the radiator to warm my pants in the cold morning before going to school. very toasty! Steve
I went to catholic school, so the pants were navy blue flannel or wool. they held the heat and went well with the obligatory white shirt and school logo tie!
When Annie and I moved to Rhode Island, I was relatively unfamiliar with radiators, since most homes I grew up in had none. Denver was a relatively new city with baseboard heat. Our late 19th century Victorian has a radiator in most every room and I love it. Reading the other commentaries indicated creative features not envisioned by the manufacturers. When I throw our dogs out in the back to deal with rain or snow, I'm there to greet them at the door with warm towels provided by radiator heat.
I never had that experience but appreciate the telling of your experiences. Your dad had a good head on his shoulders in all your writings dad was there to solve the problem. I can share my experiences with coal. When I was 12, I shoveled snow walkways and small driveways and one of my customers Mrs. Maynard would ask me on occasion to go in the basement and shake out the burnt coal and shovel a few scoops of the new into the furnace.
I loved the old radiators!! When taking a shower on a very cold day, I would put my towel on the radiator, and it would be nice and warm when I was ready yo dry off!!
Your post brings back fond memories of sleeping over at Grandma's. The sounds, smell, and then the warmth generated from the radiators was very comforting. And as you described, a place to dry mittens and warm the butt. While teaching, I rented an apartment in a beautiful Victorian house in Pawtucket. On those cold winter mornings before showering, my towel was placed on the radiator in the bathroom. It's the simple pleasures that touch the heart.
I miss living in Manhattan for all the reasons you might expect. And also because of plentiful STEAM HEAT, from the occasionally thumping radiators in my apartment.
Ed, I too miss those sounds, I thought I was the only one! And putting wet mittens and clothes on the radiator after being out in the snow! Re: the coal bins, I had two older brothers. They thought it would be funny to “lock” me in the coal bins. Terrifying! I can still smell the coal, see the wooden door, and feel that claustrophobia. It’s amazing how many of your memories parallel mine, keep writing! I love your stories
Hi Ed: Your piece brought back memories of my childhood, also in a 3rd floor walkup with coal fired steam heat (on the southside of Chicago)! Great job. Now that I am in my 80s, my tinnitus sounds exactly like the hissing of the radiators, so I have a frequent nostalgic reminder when the house quiets down for the night! Don
I love reading your memories! Most of them are mine, too.
It's interesting, Shirley. I give a talk, "What Ever Happened to Sunday Dinner?" So many say to me, "You wrote my story." I love it. But my reply always is, "Write your own. It's in there, and it is important." So, Shirley, git goin'!
As a child, I loved melting my Crayola crayons 🖍️ on the radiator. Was fascinated by this😂
HaHa. Well, now, that's a new one for me, Elizabeth.
When I was nine years old, my family moved from a cold water flat to our own home with steam heat and hot water. The smell of the heat, the warmth and the cacophony of the steam pipes and radiators is a "warm" memory. This memory is surpassed by the pride my parents felt owning their own home and providing comfort for me and my older sister.
They worked hard and saved. Their example thought me what dedication, setting goals, hard work and most of all, love. means. They also thought me about helping other in need through their example. Bringing food to the sick, elderly, and poor and help paying for fuel for the kerosene stoves that stilled heated many tenements of many of their friends. I am grateful my parents' example helped me learn we are not alone in this world, and we must help our neighbors in need.
This is a beautiful note full of love, John. Thank you for sharing it with us. It's an example of giving back to the community because of what the community and your parents gave you.
And oh yes, the kerosene stoves. I remember them now. Dangerous but necessary.
I bet my dad would have an answer for you as he hefted that metal trash can full of coal ashes up the cellar stairs and out to the curb for pickup. lol. I still have steam radiators in my 100 year old house and welcome those noises in the night. Yes, I have my own radiator key and “bleed” those iron monsters every winter like my steam fitter dad taught me.
Another responsibility I somehow managed to duck, Mary Jane: emptying the ash bucket. Lucky you to still have the clangs. You bleed them! Wow!
ed, my job was to make sure the water level in the boiler didnt get too low. I had to check a glass tube every day. my mother also used the radiator to warm my pants in the cold morning before going to school. very toasty! Steve
Yes, Steve, I forgot about the water level. My Dad checked it every morning. I never got that responsibility. Warm pants, Ah yes.
I went to catholic school, so the pants were navy blue flannel or wool. they held the heat and went well with the obligatory white shirt and school logo tie!
Aha, the uniform. I was a public school guy, randomly dressed
When Annie and I moved to Rhode Island, I was relatively unfamiliar with radiators, since most homes I grew up in had none. Denver was a relatively new city with baseboard heat. Our late 19th century Victorian has a radiator in most every room and I love it. Reading the other commentaries indicated creative features not envisioned by the manufacturers. When I throw our dogs out in the back to deal with rain or snow, I'm there to greet them at the door with warm towels provided by radiator heat.
They serve many purposes, Larry. Lucky dogs.
I never had that experience but appreciate the telling of your experiences. Your dad had a good head on his shoulders in all your writings dad was there to solve the problem. I can share my experiences with coal. When I was 12, I shoveled snow walkways and small driveways and one of my customers Mrs. Maynard would ask me on occasion to go in the basement and shake out the burnt coal and shovel a few scoops of the new into the furnace.
You were/are a man of many talents, Peter.
You made an interesting comment about my Dad and his influence on me. Until I began to write my stories, I did not realize how much.
I wish he were here now to read what I have written, and for me to tell him what he meant to me.
Ed, in his wisdom he knew what you were and that you would travel far.
I do, too!
I loved the old radiators!! When taking a shower on a very cold day, I would put my towel on the radiator, and it would be nice and warm when I was ready yo dry off!!
Yes, Rosemary, we did that also. Thanks for reminding me.
Such a great memory Dr Ed 💖
Thank you, Deb.
Your post brings back fond memories of sleeping over at Grandma's. The sounds, smell, and then the warmth generated from the radiators was very comforting. And as you described, a place to dry mittens and warm the butt. While teaching, I rented an apartment in a beautiful Victorian house in Pawtucket. On those cold winter mornings before showering, my towel was placed on the radiator in the bathroom. It's the simple pleasures that touch the heart.
Love it. Simple pleasures. I forgot the warming towel.
I miss living in Manhattan for all the reasons you might expect. And also because of plentiful STEAM HEAT, from the occasionally thumping radiators in my apartment.
Sounds of comfort . . .
Ed, I too miss those sounds, I thought I was the only one! And putting wet mittens and clothes on the radiator after being out in the snow! Re: the coal bins, I had two older brothers. They thought it would be funny to “lock” me in the coal bins. Terrifying! I can still smell the coal, see the wooden door, and feel that claustrophobia. It’s amazing how many of your memories parallel mine, keep writing! I love your stories
Devilish brothers, Diana. When coal was replaced by oil, my friend across the street converted his coal bin to a secret club. Funny
Hi Ed: Your piece brought back memories of my childhood, also in a 3rd floor walkup with coal fired steam heat (on the southside of Chicago)! Great job. Now that I am in my 80s, my tinnitus sounds exactly like the hissing of the radiators, so I have a frequent nostalgic reminder when the house quiets down for the night! Don
Well, Don, the tinnitus may be good for something, Eh?