I am stuck in the house being hall monitor for the workmen. I wouldn’t be going anywhere anyway because I am not up to it. Ed is out doing guardian things. My mind for some reason, wandered as I was playing Solitaire on the computer and began to dwell on early memories. Jeri will relate to at least a few.

Radio commercials from the 30s. Rinso White Rinso White, Happy Little Washday Song!

C R E S T A? B L A N C A! Each letter sung on a rising scale, up on Cresta, down on Blanca. Then CRESTA? BLANCA! CRESTA BLANCA!!! Little chimes accompanied the spelling. (It was a wine.) And, no, they’re not writing them like that anymore.

Radio shows: Fibber McGee and Molly, Bob Hope, Jack Benny, Fred Allen. Bob Hope was bumped off the air suddenly when he made a racy joke. He said, “I’m so unlucky that if they sawed a woman in half, I’d get the half that eats.” He was reinstated soon after and when he was back on the air, he said, “that was so funny, I think I’ll tell it again.” And he did.

Fred Allen and Jack Benny had a fake feud going for many years. Allen was an acerbic wit. Here are some quotes:
The last time I saw him he was walking down lover's lane holding his own hand.

A committee is a group of people who individually can do nothing, but who, as a group, can meet and decide that nothing can be done.

The first time I sang in the church choir; two hundred people changed their religion.

What's on your mind, if you will allow the overstatement.

And my favorite (from a letter to a friend): All the sincerity in Hollywood you could stuff in a flea's navel and still have room left to conceal eight caraway seeds and an agent's heart.

Other memories are the “I Buy” fellow who pulled a hand cart down the alleys of Chicago, and sang
“I B-u-y-y-y” and housewives would take clothing and goods they didn’t want anymore and sell them to him.

Ice deliveries. You put a sign in the window positioned so that the number of pounds you wanted was at the top. 25, 50, 75 lbs. A big guy with a leather shoulder pad, and huge tongs, would bring the block of ice up the stairs, tramp through the dining room (where I slept -- I’d pull the blanket over my head) and into the pantry area where the ice box was and dump it in. Deliveries were daily. Ice melts you know. There was a drip pan under the box.
Ice trucks were wonderful during the hot Chicago summers. While the driver was delivering, kids would climb on the back and grab ice slivers to suck on. Some drivers didn’t mind and others were really mean-spirited. I loved stealing ice. An old derelict once offered me part of his bread when he saw me doing this because he thought I was hungry. Did I mention our flat was in an apartment building owned by the Salvation Army and was smack in the middle of Madison Street, Skid Row?

I think my childhood was wonderful. It was richer than any I heard about after I started working with people who had grown up in the suburbs.