Over the years, milkmen have received a bad rap, through the catty subculture of Tupperware-laden suburbanite women who raise an eyebrow at a strange looking child and mutter something about the milkman.
But my fellow Americans, I propose to you that it is time to stand up in solidarity with the ever-decreasing ranks of these noble men and, lest you think me ignorant, women. Be it the milkman or the milk maid, I want milk on my doorstep every morning. In a bottle.
Think about it: millions of Americans used to automatically recycle by returning the "empties", and less waste, too - need only a little bit of whole milk? You can get a glass bottle, use it, rinse it, and set it on your doorstep, instead of the expiration date coming and going, forgotten milk from some abstract udder Out There In The Universe.
This subject arose when I was trying to convince my friend Emily to start yet another business. She has a list of about seven that she's always meaning to start some day, including a cleaning business with the motto, "we're anal so you don't have to be." Anyway, I tried to pitch Bananagrams to her. Not a note with a banana. Oh no. A banana left on your door step every morning for breakfast with an anagram alongside it, an abbreviated version of room service's southwestern omelette and New York Times. Banana. Anagram. Bananagram.
Who wouldn't want that?
"The only thing," I commented as I drove back from returning tapes to the library, "is that we'd have to offer vacation stops. No one wants to return home from vacation to find seven rotting bananas between their screen door and their front door."
Still, I liked the idea of bananagrams. Then we started ranting about other erstwhile, far-off services that used to bedeck the common American landscape. Like how we don't get milk delivered to the door any more.
"My cousin in Pennsylvania does," Emily fumed. "She has online grocery shopping too for five dollars, and farmers in her area have chickens so you can just go buy a chicken."
I understand, citizens of the world, that bananagrams may not be your cup of morning tea. But I WANT A MILKMAN.