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.
When I was a kid and we lived in Owosso, Michigan (so Daddy could finish his college) WE HAD A MILKMAN! You could stop delivery while you were on vacation, you could order extra if you had company coming, and THE MILK WAS ALWAYS FRESH. You could also order cream, butter, half & half, etc. I think he came about 3 times a week. It was cool....and I have thought wistfully about it recently. How nice - especially when you're sick, etc. - to have it delivered to your door.....Just think - a person could deliver milk, eggs, bread all the perishables. Sigh.
Love you, Mom
hi! i stumbled on your blog through pioneer woman :) your dogs are SO cute! and i love your milkmen campaign!
i update my blog daily with different topics, and every friday is a giveaway! so swing by and enter!
I remember milk being delivered to the house your grandparents live in now, that would have been in the early 60's. He would also leave cottage cheese, etc. When the weather was hot, it would be placed in an insulated metal box. If the weather was too cold, the milk would freeze and pop the wax paper top. You'd have a creamy column sticking up about 2 inches.
The only similar delivery nationwide now is Schwan's. At least, I think it's nationwide. But I don't think they have just milk.--dad
Well EXCUSE me if I just don't have time for bananagrams that nobody really wants. I'm just a little busy with Bethesda Spa and Resort, Leather Bound Books Publishing, the Wesley Tea Room, Stone Oven Breads, Anal Intruders Home and Office Organizing, and, la creme de la creme (literally), Celebrity Breast Milk Dairy: 2% Milk. 100% Star Power.
I'd prefer the Krispy Kreme man, quite frankly.
Oh my gosh, a Krispy Kreme man...to deliver white fluffy filling chocolate-topped doughnuty goodness to my door...what a brilliant thought.
I sit transfixed.
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