I remember the milkman, but in pre war Europe we added some others, the gypsies would come and repair the aluminum pots by putting a washer in them. I know my mother had a pot that was worn and she kept waiting for them to come and fix it. We had a rag man , he would pick up your rags or clothing no longer able to be salvaged. He had a bag over his shoulder, he would weigh the clothes with one the of the long hand scales now considered "antique".

 We lived in a small village and we also had the butcher deliver every morning if you needed him and the baker too. That stopped during the war when we had rations.

Our coal was delivered in push cart by an old man getting more and more bent over.

Worse yet was not in delivery but in pick up. When one died you did stay in the house until the funeral wagon came to get you and bring you to the cemetery.

We did not have an ice wagon perhaps in the big city but we Had every thing done fresh every day or was pickled in large vessels (such as eggs , herring and butter with a layer of salt on top).

My first refrigerator came when I lived in Montreal for 2 years waiting for my USA visa. I did not know what to put in or out of it. I decided to just pack it with everything included canned goods until I knew better,

My Uncle Walter married Edina Duma whose father owned a large diary (Verifine) in our Wisconsin town that distributed milk products including cheese and ice cream to all parts of Wisconsin. When old man Duma died Walter took over, eventually expanding the dairy and when his three sons grew up brought them into the business. As kids we were taken to some of the farms that produced the milk, got to have a go at milking the cows, ride some of the horses –––the smell of manure still lingers. I, too, remember   the horse drawn milk cart, the box by the back door with milk bottles and cottage cheese, the way the cream rose to the top and was frozen due to the cold, cold winter season. In 1975 Verifine began producing the plastic milk jug. It was a gamble on an innovation the Midwest had not yet tried, but it certainly paid off.

We had  the same mailman for all the years I was growing up. When I became a teenager and would get letters from a boyfriend, he would ring the doorbell to let me know. During the winter months my mother would always bring John into the kitchen for a cup of coffee and a chat. When he finally retired after 40 years, he was written up in the local paper along with his picture which I have in one of my albums to remind me of a time when our mailmen became part of the family.  "Those feet have walked approximately 88,000 miles in the last 35 years. that’s roughly the equivalent of walking to San Francisco and back 18 times," said John who never drove a mail truck, but if he had, he would never have gotten those cups of coffee, nor would we have had the great affection for him that we had. Progress sometimes stymies cozy connections. 

I dont remember it here in the states but every year when we visited my family in Canada they were delievered milk in glass bottles…It was the freshest best tasting milk I have ever tasted.  You can still find some milk up there in grocery stores in glass bottles. 

I have a question - if you buy your milk the way it is now and transfer it to a glass bottle - will it last the same amount of time? 

Ragmen? Very odd.  And "horse-drawn carts", to boot.  How old are you people?

Um … I’m surprised that no one has mentioned having a milk man during the 70’s.  There was home delivery services in Phoenix when I was a young mother.  I had a milk man who delivered fresh milk in bottles.  And, I had the option of ordering eggs, butter, and bread with my milk delivery.  I also had diaper service as did many mothers in my neighborhood. 

When I was growing up in Philadelphia, Pa., my parents did not have a milk man.  But there were vendors [some with horse-drawn wagons] who sold fresh fish on Fridays in our neighborhood.  Also, there were vendors who sold fresh vegetables and other goods.  Most memorable was the paper boys who shouted, "INQUIRER … GET YOUR SUNDAY MORNING NEWSPAPER!"  Those where, indeed, the good days.

We had a milk man up to the time I was a senior in College 1979, he brought eggs, milk, butter, cottege cheese, juice and mom always got this hughe gallon jug that sit on it’s side with a pour spout.  I never went to the store for milk as a kid or young adult.

I miss those days, life was simpler and easier and I felt much safer back then.

I remember fondly as a little girl in the forties how our milkman delivered our milk every two days.  If we weren’t at home he put the milk in our refrigerator.  In those days, people would leave there doors unlocked so this was an ongoing agreement.  How I miss those wholesome, trusting

times.

Such a wonderful collection of treasured vignettes. Beautiful little tales from the greatest of our times, known as, “precious youth”. How enriching to read the similarity of situations which we apparently have all experienced. The pictures that each of you paint, reflect so many scenes I can recall and fondly remember. It has been a lovely little trip down memory lane. It’s amazing, what a friendly and relaxing atmosphere such delightful personal stories such as these, can create.