Louie's' Lemon Freeze

We were living in the small rural town of Harmony. The provincial village which dates back to the beginning of the 19th century was adjacent to a busy highway that started in Gloucester and ran to Putnam, Connecticut. It was called the Old Putnam Highway or Rt. 44. There was not a lot of traffic in those days so when my one sibling and I were playing in the yard we could hear a car coming from a long way, it's tires growling at the surface and then fading into the distance. We wondered with our little minds what was off in the distance. Our imaginations could conjure up all sorts of things, but we didn't take long to get back to playing in the wooded yard and listening for the next whisk of tires. I particularly remember that along side the road were tall wooden poles that had electric wires strung from one to another. There were small posts that were markers for people to find your house since addresses could be a pole number. Life was uncluttered then, few cars, few neighbors, and lots of trees.
We did have a neighbor who lived in a trailer across the way. His name was Louie. He lived alone, wore old dungarees, a checkered shirt, and always smelled like pipe smoke. He tended a small garden which grew copious amounts of tomatoes and cukes which he generously shared. On occasion  he would  bring us over the most delicious treat called Lemon Freeze. He made it in ice cube trays and our taste buds exploded with happiness when he shared his special recipe. I'm guessing he was lonely since I never saw any body visit him but our family always gave him a big welcome and enjoyed his visits as short as they were. It was a win win situation all around. Today he would probably be looked at askance but back then kindness and sharing was the order of the day.
When company came, mostly family, mostly unannounced, it was a treat. The car pulling in the driveway, the crunching sound beneath the wheels,aunts and uncles piling  out with cousins right behind them, ready to play and explore in our country setting. It was really a small rented house, my parent not long married and only two of us to share our toys and adventures. The old folks would sit around the "parlor" talking about the cost of bread, state of the union, and the latest Hollywood gossip. There always came a point in the conversations where they would discuss their aches and pains which amused us to no end, thinking to ourselves 'I'll never do that when I'm old.' Huh!
Families visited often then, partly because they lived in close proximity, there was far less formality, and adding another few meatballs in the sauce was no big deal. Family was important, it was tribal identification so inborn in all of us, it was the safety net for rainy days. We got to know our aunts, and cousins and they got to know us. Most families stayed in the same area because there were jobs to be had. What a difference a half century has made. People go were the jobs are, families are scattered all over the states and world. Aunts and Uncles have become sporadic names brought up in conversations and the connections that were so dear and constant are disappearing. The 50's decade was one of family dinners, family gatherings, cousins playing, spontaneous visits and a sense of community. I miss it. My children miss it, because now the Aunts and Uncles are all over the globe. Their children have to be very careful of strangers and dangers. A different world today, a different time.