1960 • La Habra ~ The Fuller Brush man, the Good Humor man, and the Helms man were regulars in our neighborhood. I loved the Helms man. I loved anybody who brought food around. Bow-tied Gus Gustavito drove slowly up our street, a distinctive hoot-hoot tooting his daily arrival. His mustard-yellow 1962 Chevy panel truck had an awning that swung open and arched over the rear doors. Sliding out his wooden shelves, he displayed his wares: jelly doughnuts, glazed twists, crullers, cream-puffs, sugar cookies, brownies, fresh baked Olympic bread, and aluminum pans of chocolate frosted single-layer cakes (my favorite). He knew all of our names, pinched our cheeks, and chuckled, “Howyadothismornin?” shaking them hard enough to loosen our cheeks from our gums. We’d race to the truck, our palms protecting our faces.
Randy, Cathy, Debbie, taken in August 1960
The Good Humor truck was the other regular on the block. We heard him as soon as he turned our corner on Verdugo, his distinctive calliope music sounding from his roof, calling us out our front doors to chase him down the street until he had a small crowd hopping barefoot on the hot asphalt, our coins jingling in our pockets.
The Foremost trailer, a traveling photography studio, rolled up twice a year and parked at the end of the street. The kids in the neighborhood were scrubbed and shined for sittings. The photographer and his assistant cupped our chins, turned our cheeks, and tilted our heads to shutter snap, advance, and shutter snap again. Three weeks later proofs arrived in the mail, documentation of happy children on that year’s calendar.
to be continued…
© 2018. Catherine Sevenau.
All rights reserved.
Jim Chatfield says
You were a cute young lady Cathy. Bet you broke all the boys hearts.
Barbara Jacobsen says
You look like the classical American family! Ha!