Burning Autumn Leaves

Walking home from the Wait School during the late autumn months was pure

heaven for me, especially on Wednesdays when the close of school bell sounded at 3:35 pm. Once my sister Pam and I were dismissed at the playground door, we were free and headed home at a variety of speeds. 

First, we ran across the playground and headed up the dirt road across the way, charging over the rocky road shaped surface at a quickly cautious speed. At the top, we landed at Summit Road, and, as its name implies, it was like arriving at the top of a great, high mountain, only with sidewalks. We quickly bore left, shifting into second gear as we trotted down the steep walkway. At the first level spot, we turned right onto Cedar Road and marched with increasing speed down the remaining stretch of hill, gaining momentum as we went. Once at the bottom, we screeched to a halt, carefully crossed Governor's Ave and made our way down the narrow dirt path that landed us at the 'other end' of Cedar Road. Now we had only four houses to pass, and we would be home. 

Coming home on Wednesdays was particularly exciting, because it was one of Dad's days off, and in November he'd often be working on his annual "Raking of

the Leaves." And this meant there would be big piles of golden and red leaves to jump into and swim through -- not one of our most appreciated activities, that's for sure. Maple, oak, elm, and horse chestnut leaves, enough of them for piles upon piles of crispy fun. Only an occasional 'ouch' sounded out, if one of us landed with too much energy on the spiney skin of a fallen chestnut seed pod.

In the 1950's the leaves were cleared from the yards and streets by burning them, right there in your yard. So Dad raked a small pile of leaves to the edge of the road in front of our house and lit it with a match. Gradually he added more and more leaves, always keeping the pile small enough to manage. The smoke spiraled up into the air, filling it with a familiar earthy burning smell, while the heat from the fire warmed just the half of your body facing it.  Pile after pile of leaves was raked, moved, and burned until one day the yard was finally cleared of leaves, and our leaf pile jumping days were done for another year.

Today leaf burning is banned throughout Massachusetts, and I do the clearing of the leaves myself. But I will always remember my anticipation of the annual ritual and of my desire to get home and see Dad at work. I'll always remember the smokey smell of burning leaves, the crisp cool air on my cheeks, the rhythmic sounds of the raking, and having Dad working nearby while we played. It was a great way to spend Wednesday afternoons after school until it was dark and time to go in for supper.




(c)2016 copyright Malvena Baxter
Pictures: Free Clipart

Thanksgiving as a Child

Thanksgiving in Medford as a child meant... 

1. St. Joseph's church for morning Mass.
2. the Medford/Malden football game-61st year when I was a senior at Medford High, 1964.
3. the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade on TV.
4. singing "Over the River and through the Woods" written in Medford in 1844. 
5. everyone dressed in Sunday best.
6. full dining room regalia ready for dinner -- the best china, silver, cloth napkins, and glassware set out on a newly pressed cut work tablecloth, seating around the table, touching edge to edge waiting.
7. each oven and each stove burner occupied, steam slipping from beneath covers, smells filling each room.
8. every extra table or shelf covered with dishes of home baked cookies and freshly baked pies--pumpkin, apple, and minced meat.
9. cooks busy in the kitchen, apronned neck to knee.
10. company.
11. the dining room filled to capacity.
12. grace recited while stomachs growled and food waited.
13. antipasto, Italian chicken soup with escarole and mini-meatballs.
    
14. Dad sitting, poised with a huge carving knife, waiting for the first cut into the golden brown turkey.
15. sliced turkey, dressing, and gravy; bowls of vegetables, sweet potatoes and mashed, squash, turnip, stuffed mushrooms and artichokes.
16. a walk and a rest after dinner but before dessert.
17. a day to be grateful, a day to remember.

The 1950's Door-to-Door Salesman: The Invisible Workers

     A recent Andover Townsman news article about a new compost pickup company caught my attention. This company supplies homes with the bags and a container for food scraps and then picks the bags up once a week to be brought to local farms to compost.

     What does this have to do with Medford, you ask? Well, it brought to mind

that when I was a child, growing up in Medford, a "compost" pickup man came to our house once a week, but, at the time, he was called the garbage man. I can still see the spot where the pail, with its step-on-to-open lid, was buried in the ground.

     That thought, in turn, reminded me of all the workmen who walked or drove through our neighborhoods on a regular basis, providing foods and services to homemakers without their having to leave the house. Some would park and walk door-to-door while others walked passed your door or slowly drove down the street, only stopping when signaled by someone standing at the front door.

     Do you remember any of these hard working, underappreciated workers?

Some of them are still stomping through our neighborhoods today, but many of them have been replaced due to innovations and changes in our daily way of living.  And, of course, there are some today who were not around at all in those days, but for now, these are the door-to-door salespeople in our neighborhoods in the 1950's that I remember. Can you recall any others?

The Avon Lady

The Bread Man

The Coal Man

The Egg Man

The Electric Man

The Fruit and Vegetable Man

The Fuller Brush Man

The Garbage Man

The Ice Cream Man

The Ice Man

The Knife Sharpening Man

The Laundry Man

The Mailman

The Milk Man

The Oil Man

The Trash Man

God bless them, every one.

(c) Copyright 20016 Malvena Baxter. All Rights Reserved.
Free Google Images: mailman, ice cream man clip art