Mom Was a Looker

Zero Flash 2016

Growing up we had the “men” come to our neighborhood. There was, Irv the ragman with his scale—the moneybag tied to his belt, Sid the dry cleaner in his bright white windowless truck, Bernie the veggie man pulled along by an old swayback horse, his wagon filled with fruits and vegetables, ringing his bell at every stop, Marv the fish man driving the canvas sided truck with boxes of ice, filled with fish lying on their sides—surprised looks on their faces. The grocer Mickey and Jake the butcher making their deliveries from their station wagons. And, Mr. Landsfeld, our landlord in his shiny black Buick, out collecting his rents.

 

The only man not around was my father, so Mom traded what she wanted for what the men wanted, and since my Mom was what they called a “looker” we never went without.

 

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