Ivanhoe 8-5941

All us kids had our phone numbers drilled into us, just in case we got 
lost or in some kind of trouble.

...back in the day when my brother was busy punching me in the arm...

To escape the pounding I would go up to the boulevard where the bus 
stopped and look for dimes and quarters under the plank that lay across 
the mud puddle to keep the ladies' shoes clean as they stepped from the 
brick sidewalk, to the granite curb stone and into the bus. There 
usually was at least 30 cents, good enough to buy me and my two buddies 
a root beer down at A&W. If it had just rained there would always be 
coins under there. It took us a couple of summers to realize why. If 
there was a puddle the ladies would not bother to fish through the muck, 
to retrieve a dropped coin--but we would! The only problem was a long 
hot dry spell, when we really needed a long draft of an ice cold A&W 
Root Beer, but no puddle, no coins. It finally dawned on us to keep an 
old bucket behind the bushes under the downspout of Dr. Henry's house 
near by. Then we could make a mud puddle at the bus stop and fish out 
some coins any time we though of it. That worked real good, until, Dr. 
Henry spotted us rummaging around behind his bushed. Well, the jig was 
up, we was caught out, and Dr. Henry demanded our names, our fathers' 
names and our phone numbers. Petrified and crumbling under the authority 
I blurted out my number: Ivanhoe 8-5941.

That was the last time I ever gave out my number to a complete stranger.

John
www.HistoricHomeWorks.com

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