The ice box was a wooden cabinet with a block of ice inside it. The ice kept the food cold and the food stayed fresh and the ice melted and you put a pan underneath to catch the water and you emptied the pan every day. The ice box was a negotiation with temperature. The refrigerator is a dictatorship. The refrigerator decides the temperature and you do not participate.

The iceman came on a horse. The horse pulled the wagon and the wagon had blocks of ice and the iceman used tongs to carry the ice up the stairs and the tongs left marks on the ice and the ice left water on the stairs. The iceman was the second most important delivery in the neighborhood after the milkman. The ice and the milk arrived at the same time because the milk needed the ice and the ice needed the milk and neither one could survive without the other.

You could see the ice. You could see it shrink. You watched the cold disappear. That was the truth about preservation. Everything you save is melting. The refrigerator hides this. The refrigerator hums and you do not know what is happening inside. The ice box showed you what was happening inside. The ice got smaller and you knew the clock was running and you ate the food before the ice was gone and nothing was wasted because waste was visible.

My grandmother had an ice box on Rivington Street until 1955. She did not trust the refrigerator because the refrigerator used electricity and electricity cost money and ice cost fifteen cents. She understood the ice. She did not understand the compressor. The last generation that watched their food preservation melt is gone. We keep things cold now without knowing how cold works. The ice box knew exactly how cold works. Cold works until it doesn't.

See also: Milk Bottle, Penny Candy