The Engineer

My printer would not function. The green “E” for error appeared and the start button flashed red. I pushed all the buttons. Nothing! I checked the wires on the back; all tight and in place. It was obviously plugged in: the light was on. I opened the hatch to see if anything foreign was in there. Nothing! I wiggled the ink cartridges. They were in proper position. I am already thinking, “Who can I get to look at this thing?” I need the printer to write letters and address envelopes.

Sunday the newspaper came and I looked at the Office Depot and Staples ads. Printers are cheap; I can get a four-purpose machine for less than $60.00. I am thinking, “When Amy gets a chance I will ask her to go with me and buy one.”

This morning I got up and thought, “There is one last thing I can try.” I went into the office, stood in front of the printer and gave it a slap on the right side. It burped, gurgled, a page slid out and the red “E” light disappeared. It now functions.

Sometimes the old ways are the best ways.

Ken Golberg, Master Chef

Until five years ago, I did not cook; no if, and or buts: I did not cook. There was no reason for me to cook inasmuch as there were seven children and a wife in the home who cooked and who, I believe, liked to cook. But some five years ago, Momma (Grandma) fell and became a semi-invalid. If I wanted to eat, I had to cook. And Golbergs must eat and eat well; it is in their genes. For Golbergs, every occasion is an excuse to eat.

Cooking is not difficult; in fact, I find it easy. Other than the ingredients, the three elements of cooking are seasonings, heat and imagination. I do not awaken in the morning and decide that I will have fish for dinner and then go out and purchase the various foods needed for dinner. I look in the refrigerator, freezer and pantry and find what I will cook. And what I find, I have previously purchased on sale or with a coupon. That’s the law in Florida; on sale or with a coupon.

On this morning, I have found some tilapia fillets, some potatoes, frozen okra, celery, onions and a can of diced tomatoes. I can do many things with these ingredients by varying the spices used. I can put a small amount of olive oil in a ceramic dish, add a pat of butter and some dill weed and parsley flakes. Shmoosh the fish around in the mixture until coated on both sides and bake for about ten minutes. Done and delicious! Or instead of dill weed and parsley flakes, I can use Chinese mustard. Same shmooshing, same results, different taste. Or I can sautee some onion and celery, add the diced tomatoes and Italian seasoning, shmooshing the fish around in it and bake for ten minutes. Want to kick it up a notch? Add a dash of cayenne pepper. Imagine how many different ways the fish can be seasoned! And if you find boneless chicken breasts instead of fish, just vary the seasonings (perhaps poultry seasoning) and heat.

I have decided on mashed potatoes. I can bake two potatoes, take off the skin, (it comes right off) and mash them. Or I can peel them and boil them in water until done and then mash them. And when I mash them, I can fold in some sour cream and/or garlic, parsley flakes or any of a dozen different spices. I could even use the stuff that the fish cooked in and add it to the mashed potatoes.

I do not like peas or string beans, but I do love okra so I add some to a can of diced tomatoes, add some spices like rosemary and thyme, heat and I have my vegetable.

There is no end to the variety simply by varying the spices and developing a healthy imagination. And think how much you will save on cookbooks. I must give credit to Emeril and Rachael Ray. They gave me the basics.

Shopping - How We Got Stuff

Today we get in the car or SUV and go shopping. We go to the mall, the shopping center or the big box stores. We have droves of catalogues delivered to our mail boxes and we can shop online. There are plenty of places to shop. In the late 1920’s and early and mid 30’s most people rode the street cars and there was no Internet. Many people did not have a telephone. My mother shopped by mail. She sent a penny postcard to the grocer ONE BLOCK AWAY! There were two mail deliveries each day She gave the post card to the mailman at the first delivery, he delivered it to the grocer at the second delivery, and the grocer filled and delivered the order, all in one day!

Few people had electric refrigerators. Mr. Pratt was our iceman. He came each day with his helper, Jim, in a truck delivering ice to the houses. A card was placed in the window with the sixe needed. Mr. Pratt would cut a piece from a huge chunk and catch it between tongs. The tongs were like a huge scissors with hooks on each end. Jim would bring it in and put it in the icebox. As the ice melted during the day, the water would run down a tube to a pan under the icebox which needed to be emptied each day. Mr. Pratt would give us kids ice ships which fell off as he cut the ice to size. That was a treat!

Salesmen plied their trade door-to-door. The famous Fuller Brush Man came to homes with an astounding array of brushes; toothbrushes, hair brushes, upholstery brushes, dish washing brushes, pain brushes; you name it, they carried it! A man came around to sharpen knives, scissors and other instruments which needed sharpening. He had a sharpening wheel mounted like a wheelbarrow and he walked the streets.

Milk and dairy products were delivered daily. Milk came in glass quarts with a cardboard cap fitted in a slot around the top. In the winter the milk froze and a column of frozen milk pushed the cap up. It tasted like unsweetened ice cream. The milkman also carried sliced white bread which no self respecting Jew would eat. We called it Kvatch. We got our challah, pumpernickel and rye from Stone’s and Wartzman’s on Lombard Street.

During the summer, the Ayrabbers came around, prowling the streets and alleys shouting their wares. They were black men who drove a horse and wagon. They sold in-season produce directly to the housewives. The watermelon man would shout in a sing-song manner, “Sweet and red to the rind.” The strawberry man would sing out, Straw-aw-aw-aw berries.” One Ayrabber sold fresh fish. He would clean your purchase right there on the street.

We had a coal furnace and coal was delivered directly to a coal bin in the basement. The bin was next to the furnace and directly below a cellar window. If the coal truck could park near the window, a chute was extended from the truck through the window into the coal bin and coal was shoveled down the chute. If not, the coal was loaded into canvas bags and walked from the truck to the basement window where it was dumped down the chute. Later the furnace was converted to an oil burner and oil was delivered through a long hose to the tank in the basement which stood where the coal bin once had been.

Would we like to go back to the good old days? Never in a million years!