…PEDLERS THREE

My apologies for no new blog entry last week.

Single digit temperatures with sub-zero wind chill factors.  A gap in the neckline of a coat found by an icy breeze.  Snowy wet gloves ineptly protecting frozen fingers.  A perfect formula for a severe January cold, if not the dreaded flu bug!

Chills, light-headedness, nausea, inability to calmly sit at the computer to write a blog, headache, uncontrollable runny nose, continuous deep-chested coughing followed by…well you know the drill. 

A phone call to the doctor.  A trip to the pharmacy.  Did you know that now-a-days your doses of amoxicillin can be made tempting in several different flavors? 

When my husband needed and antibiotic several weeks ago, the druggist gave him this pink liquid instead of the gigantic pills Jerry would never have been able to swallow.  It is the first time in almost sixty years he not only finished a prescription, but enjoyed it!  He kept wanting me to “just taste it.”  Being raised by a registered nurse of the old school, I wasn’t about to taste someone else’s medication.

So when I had coughed enough and blown my nose enough, and felt really lousy, on top of his nagging, and realized I just couldn’t hold off for the two weeks I knew I would have this cold, I finally placed my call to the doctor requesting the famous pink stuff.  Although my amoxicillin was white instead of pink, I was assured it was flavored the same way my husband’s had been, with—bubble gum.

It has been two weeks, and I am doing much better now.  Either the medication—or time—did its work.  Thinking back, I am happy that there is bubble-gum flavored antibiotics instead of some of the “home remedies” that used to be depended upon.  As a child, my husband remembers the old-time, old-faithful mustard packs.  He also tells me of sugar cubes dipped in kerosene.  Thank goodness, my mother never resorted to either of these remedies.  I don’t know if it was because we were never that sick or I just don’t remember.  Either we might have inherited healthier genes, or her constant vigilance over her family caught the germs before they could take up residency.

Although I really did not care to drink the milk that I had noticed her adding something from the “blue bottle” (also known as Philips Milk of Magnesia) kept on an upper shelf, I didn’t mind her home-made eggnog at all!  However, like most mothers, she did have her favorite remedy—Raleigh ointment! 

She used it liberally with a deaf ear to our often loud, squirming protests.  When we came in from playing in the snow, after the coats, scarves, mittens, boots, and snow pants were removed, that flat, round can came out and a liberal amount was spread on cold cheeks, chaffed wrists, half-frozen hands, and sometimes even our ankles.  And if there was a sign of a runny nose or a cough, when we went to bed, that round can was there to “put a little in our nose” and to rub on our congested chest.

Why did I hate it?  Because after it was on a little bit, wherever it was got really cold and a tingly sting would start up.  After that, it seemed to warm up and by then we had even gotten used to the smell.  Of course, by the time this metamorphous had taken place, we were usually asleep.  I have to admit, though, come morning we had forgotten all about the discomfort and were ready to brave the cold (and Raleigh ointment) for another day’s adventure.

Another remedy Mother used was plain old aspirin.  No ibuprofen for us.  No, sir!  We took the real stuff, and healed a lot faster.

In those days, there was only one place Mother could get her tins of ointment—direct from the Raleigh man!  That was part of the era when peddlers would come door-to-door hawking their wares, and services.  Kind of like I did when I had my Avon route years later.  The Raleigh man would come with his big black bag and Mom would have him come in.  My, the stuff he had in his bag…combs, ointment, even flavorings were among his wares.  Mom would calculate when he would be around next, and purchase the ointment and flavorings she felt she would need till he came back again.

Another peddler I remembered making rounds every now and again, was the knife sharpener, who also sharpened scissors.  He’s set up his wheel and all the ladies on the block would bring their kitchen knives and household scissors for him to sharpen.  Although my mother used a whetstone to sharpen her knives in between times, she did appreciate the new edge for her scissors, especially her sewing shears.

Our best loved peddler was Billy.  For many years, he sold boxes of greeting cards.  He’d come staggering down the street on his twisted legs, two big cloth shopping bags loaded with cards hanging from each outstretched, twisted arm.  The first time we, as kids, saw him, we were quite afraid of him.  You see, Billy had MS, and his walk was different, his talk was different, the look of his face was different, but his smile that was plastered there, we did like that.  Billy was well known in all the little towns for a radius of probably twenty-five miles from his home.  He supported himself with the sale of his cards.  Of course, Billy didn’t drive, but he didn’t need to.  He was so well liked that just about everyone on his route who had a car available, offered to take him wherever he needed to go.  I remember seeing him walking along the highway, and if one of the cars in front of us didn’t stop to pick him up, we did.  It was a very sad day for the whole area when Billy was no longer able to peddle his wares.

Now-a-days this unique flavor is missing from our lives.  If we can’t get to the store, we go to our computers and order whatever it is we need and either pick it up postage free at the store, or take advantage of free postage to our homes.  Sometimes it is even worth paying the postage, just so we do not have to go out.

Part of the reason peddlers no longer have a place in our lives, is the danger and lack of trust involved.  Not only the danger as a homeowner of opening your door to a stranger, but also the danger of being that hawker and being invited into the unknown homes on your route.  It is a changing world we live in, where innocence and ingenuity have been replaced by suspicion and fear.  And a possible friend and service by the tap of a computer key.