Memories of Childhood

Old-ass refrigerator

I found this old-ass refrigerator on the side of the road in my Arlington neighborhood yesterday. It’s an old-skool kid-killer model with the airtight seal and latching door. Someone with good sense had taken the door off so no kids would get in and die from suffocation, baking in the heat or worse.

It reminds me of the refrigerator my grandfather kept in his basement. It was always filled with pesky foodstuffs and was too cold for me to crawl into while playing hide and seek. Thank goodness for that!

Ah, the old refrigerators… They lasted forever and old guys not knowing what to say while sipping beers in the basement would comment, “Yep. They don’t make them like that anymore. Yep.”

Since we live in the museum capitol of the world, shouldn’t there be a museum for ways in which we almost died as children? I would put in the refrigerator, my neighbor’s evil dog who was more interested in crapping in the yard than attacking us but only slightly so, that bobby pin I used to short out an electrical outlet and somehow only blew the fuse and Jarts.

What would you include?

This post appeared in its original form at DC Metblogs

Carl Weaver is a writer and brewer for and has been making beer and wine for more than 20 years. He is also an avid photographer and writer and just finished his first book, about a trip he took to Thailand to live in Buddhist monasteries. He considers himself the last of the Renaissance men and the luckiest darned guy in the world. Follow him on Twitter.

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