Sure, there was nothing better than milk standing outside for a few hours on a hot day; so you could put it in the ice box, at 32 degrees; so that you could empty the drip pan…sought of leaves a bad sour taste in my mouth.

What about the seltzer man with the glass spray bottles…you know, the ones that exploded.

…and when the milk man stopped come to your door…who was there to have a trist with?

I’m a city girl too.  Notwithstanding, I remember, & loved our milkman.  He smelled of sweat, well-earned, & delivered wonderful bottled milk with those wires anchoring the pleated cardboard tops.

Years later, as a young bride in a totally different part of the country, I was pleasantly surprised to be contacted by "your milkman."  Hadn’t they disappeared from contemporary life?  Apparently not!  And I engaged him to deliver milk. 

Later on, with lots of small children running around & needing nurturing (as did I), I expanded the order list to include eggs and cheese.  It didn’t feel retro.  It felt right!!