TBW Daily Diary

Bless my neighbors! The goodies keep coming. I will be feasting on ham and split pea soup tonight courtesy of Victoria Zellers . . . I have recalled a long-ago act by a Good Samaritan in circumstances similar to these. Admittedly, the details are hazy but the gist is honest. I was probably six at the time, a growing boy--especially my feet. I had all but outgrown the single pair of shoes I owned and they had to be conserved for going to school. Mother was frantic since she knew they hurt my feet, but there were no shoes to be had since I had gone through my share of ration coupons. On a couple of occasions she sent me to the grocery just a few doors away and I went through the snow and slush barefoot. On one of these trips I was seen by an old man and the store clerk explained my situation to him. I am not sure how this worked itself out, but he got in touch with mom and gave her shoe coupons which he wasn't going to use. I think I got new shoes and a pair of boots, thanks to his kindness . . . I have got to research this WWII rationing thing some time. I assume each book was the same, and that we kids got coffee coupons just like the adults. There are still some unused ones in the old books I have . . . Bob was a farm boy and since they raised their own meat, his mother would trade meat stamps for sugar ones so she could do more canning . . .

Dr. Bob's Snow Stories

Yesterday's post awakened some memories of snows past for Dr. Bob Coldren. He has allowed me to share them with you:

Of course January, 1996, sticks in my mind. Jack and I were spending our first winter at 711 Green Street. The city and, I think, much of the southern part of the state was shut down. We had ice dams in our gutters and downspouts with leaks resulting (I shudder to think that's what will come next). This was followed by the thaw from hell; warm weather and rain, flooding in the city, and the destruction of the western sections of the Walnut Street bridge, a fire in Shipoke that the fire dept couldn't get to. I guess we're lucky, so far . . .
I remember another winter but can't place the year; the late 1950's would be my guess. I know I was delivering the Reading Eagle (the evening paper there) in Shillington, my home town. It was snowing heavily, and there was often a flash of light when the trolleys on Wyomissing Avenue crossed some sort of juncture. There was suddenly a very bright flash, followed some seconds later by thunder. Scared the s--t out of me (were the Russians coming?). This was my first and, come to think it, maybe my only recollection of thunder snow. That snow resulted in school being canceled for a full week because it was followed by wind and drifting. Power was out for quite a while. I can still recall the smell of the charcoal my mother used on the back porch to cook. It was quite an adventure! What I can't recall is how cold I must have been delivering newspapers in that weather . . .

A few years later, my newspaper route changed. I had a Reading Times route (morning) covering one of the hilliest sections of town. We'd had some snow, followed by freezing rain, so there was a crust on the snow. I remember having to break the crust on hands and knees to climb the hill to deliver my papers. (I know, this sounds like some apocryphal old codger's story, but it's true. I had no choice; my father was one of those meticulous customers who insisted his paper had to be at the house by 6:00 AM so he could read it before work.) Again, it must have been bitter cold, especially since I got up at 4:30 AM to do this, but that part eludes me. Oh, the joys of childhood!!