Loved this! We had a bread man, milkman, fish man, Fuller Brush man, produce man, insurance man and Mr. Topazio, whose nickname was Regooch (sp), drove a horse drawn frozen lemonade/ice cream cart around Bristol in the afternoon. Every Italian seemed to have a nickname of some sort, LOL!
Loved this piece, Ed. Growing up we had the milkman, the bread man, the fish man , the rag man (horse drawn) and of course, Joe the ice cream man. In our first year of marriage, our neighborhood also had the fruit man. Thanks for helping to keep these memories alive!!
Tom, I am so pleased that I jogged your memories. Tom, we also had a clothes man who sold stuff to the adults from the trunk of his car. No one asked where he got them.
And we had a milkman and an ice man. I'll write about him, maybe next week.
Thank you for sharing such a nostalgic story of days gone by. Growing up in Denver there were no "peddlers" coming through the neighborhood, but we did have weekly milk and juice deliveries, and door-to-door salesmen. These "peddlers" did not evoke fear, and no ring bells/surveillance cameras were necessary to watch their every move. Our world has changed, but, hopefully, we have not succumbed to the fear of "the other." The opportunity to make a new friend, or learn about another person's life opens the heart to new insights. I think those of us who experienced the stories you tell us, Ed, has made a lasting impact on how we view the world and our interactions with friends and strangers alike.
Larry, as usual, you are most kind. So many people say to me, "You wrote my story." And I tell them to write theirs. as should you. You are such a good writer. Remember, when an old person dies, a library is lost. get it down!
By the way, when you got to RI, did the peddlers appear?
Your uncle was a handsome man and enjoyed serving his clientele nothing but the best. His rewards came in many ways.
Ed, how lucky you were growing up in a neighborhood with all the vendors that would serve treats that young people would wait in anticipation to see their trucks on the Avenue.
Growing up in the country we didn't have the pleasure of vendors serving treats. We waz ROBBED.
Well, Peter, for a country boy, your rewards came in other ways.
At the end of our day, my uncle reached into his pocket and gave me all the change he had. I thought I hit the lottery. It immediately went into my Old Stone savings account.
What wonderful memories. I was brought up in Montreal in the lower income East Side, near the oil refineries. I recall bread and milk being delivered, but that was all. It seems like a lot of great childhood memories rise out of Italian neighbourhoods. I am envious once again.
great article. I was my uncle's 'striker' on his bread route in the summer. Diane will remember uncle frank. we did the east bay from Newport to Sakonnet point. we also had a sharpener man who sharpened knives, a bread man (not uncle frank) who had wonderful chocolate frosted cupcakes and a truck announced by squealing brakes, Paul the mail man and an ice cream man (i think from your Bristol, maybe Hope Creamery?)who let us hold on to his truck bumper while we were on our bikes for a free ride! there were appraently no lawyers back then!
Wonderful memories of good times, Steve. The panoply of peddlara came to us, one a clothing man who sold out of the trunk of his car. Not sure where he got the clothes. . .hmmm
Loved this! We had a bread man, milkman, fish man, Fuller Brush man, produce man, insurance man and Mr. Topazio, whose nickname was Regooch (sp), drove a horse drawn frozen lemonade/ice cream cart around Bristol in the afternoon. Every Italian seemed to have a nickname of some sort, LOL!
Very funny, Joanne. I think there is a book about Regooch.
What, no ice man for you?
I'll write about him shortly
Hugs
Loved this piece, Ed. Growing up we had the milkman, the bread man, the fish man , the rag man (horse drawn) and of course, Joe the ice cream man. In our first year of marriage, our neighborhood also had the fruit man. Thanks for helping to keep these memories alive!!
Tom, I am so pleased that I jogged your memories. Tom, we also had a clothes man who sold stuff to the adults from the trunk of his car. No one asked where he got them.
And we had a milkman and an ice man. I'll write about him, maybe next week.
Thank you for sharing such a nostalgic story of days gone by. Growing up in Denver there were no "peddlers" coming through the neighborhood, but we did have weekly milk and juice deliveries, and door-to-door salesmen. These "peddlers" did not evoke fear, and no ring bells/surveillance cameras were necessary to watch their every move. Our world has changed, but, hopefully, we have not succumbed to the fear of "the other." The opportunity to make a new friend, or learn about another person's life opens the heart to new insights. I think those of us who experienced the stories you tell us, Ed, has made a lasting impact on how we view the world and our interactions with friends and strangers alike.
Larry, as usual, you are most kind. So many people say to me, "You wrote my story." And I tell them to write theirs. as should you. You are such a good writer. Remember, when an old person dies, a library is lost. get it down!
By the way, when you got to RI, did the peddlers appear?
Your uncle was a handsome man and enjoyed serving his clientele nothing but the best. His rewards came in many ways.
Ed, how lucky you were growing up in a neighborhood with all the vendors that would serve treats that young people would wait in anticipation to see their trucks on the Avenue.
Growing up in the country we didn't have the pleasure of vendors serving treats. We waz ROBBED.
Well, Peter, for a country boy, your rewards came in other ways.
At the end of our day, my uncle reached into his pocket and gave me all the change he had. I thought I hit the lottery. It immediately went into my Old Stone savings account.
Wise then, wise now!
What wonderful memories. I was brought up in Montreal in the lower income East Side, near the oil refineries. I recall bread and milk being delivered, but that was all. It seems like a lot of great childhood memories rise out of Italian neighbourhoods. I am envious once again.
Thanks, Mike. I was lucky indeed to grow up in such a beautiful, actually multi ethnic neighborhood. I'll tell you about it one day.
great article. I was my uncle's 'striker' on his bread route in the summer. Diane will remember uncle frank. we did the east bay from Newport to Sakonnet point. we also had a sharpener man who sharpened knives, a bread man (not uncle frank) who had wonderful chocolate frosted cupcakes and a truck announced by squealing brakes, Paul the mail man and an ice cream man (i think from your Bristol, maybe Hope Creamery?)who let us hold on to his truck bumper while we were on our bikes for a free ride! there were appraently no lawyers back then!
Steve Bucci
Wonderful memories of good times, Steve. The panoply of peddlara came to us, one a clothing man who sold out of the trunk of his car. Not sure where he got the clothes. . .hmmm
I remember riding on Uncle Anthony’s truck with Anthony and then he would come with me on my father’s bus for the day. Good old memories.
You traded drivers and vehicles. Fun. Yes, good memories, Mike.