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Marina Memories #3: Ice Cubes
Sep. 23rd, 2004 07:15 pmIce Cubes
Our family business is a marina. My sister and I spent untold hours there over the years. My memories of my dad are inextricably linked with the Marina. The Marina has been both good and bad for all of us. Every aspect of my life with my dad has been entwined with that place. He’s getting ready to retire in the next couple of years and I’m having a hard time imagining him without it. I think he is too.
One of my first memories (sadly not the last) of putting my foot in my mouth was when I was about 7 or 8. My sister and I were visiting a family friend with our mom and for some reason our hostess asked us how we were coping with our parent’s recent divorce. I merrily chirped: “We see Daddy even more now than when he lived at home” and then wondered at the shocked silence that met my response. Out of the mouths of babes, eh?
But it was true. We spent every Wednesday afternoon, every other weekend and any other time Mom couldn’t get a babysitter with him. This meant tagging along behind him as he worked at a myriad of tasks. In addition to the nautical-type things you’d expect from a marina, we were also a major supplier of ice and Christmas trees (in the appropriate seasons, of course) in the region when I was a kid. Here is the story of my adventures with ice cubes.
A large tin-covered ice house was located next to the main marina building. It was filled with rows and rows of bags of ice cubes and ice blocks. Right up until the 60’s there were many cottages with old fashioned ice boxes instead of electric refrigerators. Large metal tongs would be used to insert a 10 lb block of ice into a compartment of an insulated wooden cabinet. The ice would keep the perishable food in the adjoining compartment cool for days at a time. By the time I came around in the 70’s, there was little demand for door-to-door ice block delivery in the town. Those few cottagers who wanted block ice had their own vehicles and would drive to the Marina themselves. The real money was in ice cubes.
( Read more... )
Most people think that progress means leaving the old ways behind, but my dad has always taken great care to remember the past. The walls of the store are lined with photos that chronicle the evolution of the Marina, and he still has a set of ice tongs and an ice box. As for me, I sometimes think about the ice business when I walk into the new shop and stand in the location of the old ice house. And classic country songs will instantly transport me back to those happy summer days spent in the truck with my dad.
Our family business is a marina. My sister and I spent untold hours there over the years. My memories of my dad are inextricably linked with the Marina. The Marina has been both good and bad for all of us. Every aspect of my life with my dad has been entwined with that place. He’s getting ready to retire in the next couple of years and I’m having a hard time imagining him without it. I think he is too.
One of my first memories (sadly not the last) of putting my foot in my mouth was when I was about 7 or 8. My sister and I were visiting a family friend with our mom and for some reason our hostess asked us how we were coping with our parent’s recent divorce. I merrily chirped: “We see Daddy even more now than when he lived at home” and then wondered at the shocked silence that met my response. Out of the mouths of babes, eh?
But it was true. We spent every Wednesday afternoon, every other weekend and any other time Mom couldn’t get a babysitter with him. This meant tagging along behind him as he worked at a myriad of tasks. In addition to the nautical-type things you’d expect from a marina, we were also a major supplier of ice and Christmas trees (in the appropriate seasons, of course) in the region when I was a kid. Here is the story of my adventures with ice cubes.
A large tin-covered ice house was located next to the main marina building. It was filled with rows and rows of bags of ice cubes and ice blocks. Right up until the 60’s there were many cottages with old fashioned ice boxes instead of electric refrigerators. Large metal tongs would be used to insert a 10 lb block of ice into a compartment of an insulated wooden cabinet. The ice would keep the perishable food in the adjoining compartment cool for days at a time. By the time I came around in the 70’s, there was little demand for door-to-door ice block delivery in the town. Those few cottagers who wanted block ice had their own vehicles and would drive to the Marina themselves. The real money was in ice cubes.
( Read more... )
Most people think that progress means leaving the old ways behind, but my dad has always taken great care to remember the past. The walls of the store are lined with photos that chronicle the evolution of the Marina, and he still has a set of ice tongs and an ice box. As for me, I sometimes think about the ice business when I walk into the new shop and stand in the location of the old ice house. And classic country songs will instantly transport me back to those happy summer days spent in the truck with my dad.