Remembering the Milkman

     There was a time in America where the men went off to work and the women stayed home to tend to the children and housework.  On an average, families owned one car.  TV's could be purchased in color or black and white.  Music filled the homes with huge rectangular stereo's that were playing 8-track tapes or records.   This was the stereotypical American family in the 1970's.  An end of an era was approaching.  Like many things that fade away from society, for a brief moment, I was able to recall from my memory- the milkman.

     I have to dust off the far corners of my mind to remember our milkman.  I must of been under 6 years old.  The small straight truck would pull into our driveway in Saginaw, Mi..  There were 2 steps that led to our front door with a small cove on either side of the door.  My mom would make out a list of the things she wanted and placed it among the empty bottles that were sitting in a plastic crate in that cove outside.  I would watch from the big picture window the milkman walk up and grab the crate and head back to the truck.  He would fill out my mom's list of milk, eggs, cheese and butter and walk back up to the front door with another crate.  Sometimes he would see me spying on him and give a smile and a head nod in my direction.  I would wave back.  I watched him get into his truck that had a picture of a cow's head on a sunflower and drive off.  Years later I realized the cow was Elsie, Borden's mascot.   



     When my mom was finished doing whatever task she was doing we would go do the door together to bring in the items.  I can still hear the clinking sounds of the glass pint bottles banging together as my mom lifted up the crate and brought it into the kitchen.  When mom unloaded the crate she would hand it over to me.  I would beam with delight as I grabbed the plastic square crate to play with.  I would stick my stuffed animals in it and push it around the house.  To me, that was the highlight of the milkman.  This was a weekly tradition that I just grown accustomed to. 

     I never realized when our milkman stopped coming around.  I just didn't think about it.  It wasn't until decades later something triggered my memory about having the milkman come around.  Something that was so common in American culture just slipped though our hands with time and is no more.  Instead of waiting for the milkman people found it easier to run to the store to get the things they need.  The day of the milkman is gone.