I admit I was fairly young, but I still remember the milkman dropping off the little carrying case of milk on the front porch. It wasn't a plastic carton, it was glass. We usually had 4 of them in that little contraption made of cheap wire. My mom would tell me to make sure that I put the basket back on the porch every Sunday or we would get charged for a second basket (that was a no no). I didn't talk often to the milkman, he usually would say a simple "Good Morning" and be on his way. Is it just me or did that milk taste better than the $4/gallon stuff we drink now?

That made me think about a lot of the services we used to get that were a little more personal back then. The garbageman, that's right he was called a garbageman and he was proud to be called that. He came by our neighborhood twice a week and emptied those shiny metal cans that were multipurpose. In the summer those cans were filled with ice for all the sodas and other drinks at the barbecue. The lids made perfect shields for BB gun fights. Every now and then the garbageman would dent up the can. There was almost always a note on our door, apologizing for the dent to the can.

Of course there was the mailman too. The mailman from my childhood knew my name, and he knew the name of every kid on the street. He also knew the families and could shout greetings by name up and down the street. He didn't drive a little mail jeep, he walked. He wore those funky post office shorts, and we used to laugh a little when he left, but it wasn't uncommon to have him ask how the little league game went last night, or if we were keeping up our grades at school. Heck our mailman even liked our dog and that dumb dog seemed to like him.

Now I couldn't tell you my Postal Delivery Service driver's name if my life depended on it. Mostly because it's not the same person on a daily basis. The solid waste disposal technician shows up at about 4:30 in the morning (usually) and if I have a lid left on my receptacle I'm happy. Thankfully heavy duty plastic doesn't exactly dent. The milkman is dead. He was replaced by the mini-mart and the discount grocery stores of the world.

Nothing is personal anymore. I'm sorry that my kids won't get to experience that side of this town I grew up in. I'm not saying everything was rosy back then. We had our fair share of problems. Bullies were still running around like they do today (but back then they hit you with a fist). Drunks, pushers, and just plain inconsiderate people were still around then too, but people tended to frown on that type of behavior a bit more. Now if you are one of those categories nobody wants to say anything cause somebody might get offended. Political correctness is more important today I suppose.

Well there isn't much I can do about the milkman, but sometimes I wish he was back, along with my mailman and the garbageman...........