Milkmen, and Other Artifacts of a Lost Era

I remember going to the grocery a container to get milk that was ladled out from a large milk can. I remember when butter came in a large container. What always amazed me was how accurately the grocer was able to cut the amount requested. I remember when you were able to buy '"loosies" a cigarette for one penny. I remember when dad would send you to the deli with the same milk container for beer. I remember when the fruit and vegetable store was a horse and wagon. And when our familiar refrigerator was an ice box. I remember when our football was a folded up newspaper tied with the cord that the stacks of newspapers came tied with. Hell I could go on all day the world is a different place than it was when I grew up. When I look back we had very little of the "necessities " of today. But we were a lot more satisfied.

Fizzies... my mom said they were dangerous and not allowed. Of course, that made them more interesting!

We didn't get the milk in bottle, but got delivered by a car (and - to my earliest memory - by a horse-drawn cart), with a great tank with milk (and a rather small with buttermilk).
The milkmen had their different streets, stopped once or twice on them, ringed a bell .... and you got your liter, ore two plus a talk with the neighbourhood women.


Nowadays, many get their milk in small cans directly from the farms. (not delivered, though.)

We would wait for the Good Humor man on hot summer days. My favorite was the strawberry sundae. It was a plain cup of vanilla ice cream, with a thin coating of frozen strawberry preserves. Mmmmm..


Do you remember the Good Humor boys who would walk up and down the beach, toting a big box full of ice cream that they strapped to their shoulders?..

This here is a quite recent photo



Such cars are touring around the rural and suburbian areas very frequently: nieces, nephews and children of friends know exactly by the sound of alarm/bell, for what car they have to go [= 'can I get some money for an icecream'] or not ['doesn't taste'].

My sweetiepie's little doggies can hear the ice cream truck long before you do . . .

I wouldn't give them money other than any second day either!

in hamburg we also had women who would sell fisch door-to-door; they were the wives of fishermen and called 'fischfrau' - i can still see 'modder sieck' rattling along with a heavy pushcart filled with fish and ice coming along our street usually once or twice a week. i seem to recall that these were usually not the young women but the grandmothers, small but sinewy women who would come along almost at a trot. certainly not an easy job on a hot summer day or a cold winterday - they would usually were several layers of skirts in the winter to fight of the cold. also they wore woolgloves with the fingers cut off for handling the fish, lots of plaice, cod and slippery eels. hbg

George, my grandfather had built a coal chute into the north wall of the basement, leading directly to the coal scuttle opposite the furnace. There was always black, black coal dust all over the ground around the chute, and the Lillies of the Valley (which like shade as well) thrived there. I was always getting in trouble as a liddly for playing back there, and getting absolutely filthy . . .

They whine and bark constantly, so i just leave some change out on the porch . . .

The ice cream truck is only coming round on weekends now that school has started again. The dogs are always hopeful that Uncle Joe is around when it comes by. He's usually good for a small cone for the dogs.

The sharpening guy still comes around every couple of weeks - now he has a station wagon instead of a cart to push. Still the same bell though.

Well, this is something, I really remember very well (especially, since it's just three miles away from here ):

a 'collective' house [of course that not the official name]:



on the left, upper part of the postcard, you see the complete house and partly the coal shop, besides on the right is the ballroom [dancing lessons took place here!], which was used as theater room as well.
The pub is to be seen on the left, the store [called "colonial wares shop"] on the right.

In my hometown, about a dozen pubs had shops in another room. Our coal merchant only had a pub, but additionally two guestrooms (b&b).

I'm glad I'm not the only person who gets the "permenent record" heebie jeebies. I assume that because of my brother's position that I do have some sort of permenant record on file somewhere. I blame Mrs. Beal for destroying my reputation.

Reading through this thread I've also remembered our car's only safety feature: mom brakes - that instinctive flinging out of her arm to keep us from flying into the windshield whenever she had to hit the brakes too hard.

God bless her, she still does that on occasion.

That made me laugh. I did that very thing with my kids for a long time.

you had a car with brakes?

I had to throw the anchor out of the back window

I do understand the manually procedure, but isn't your best bower working?
















Oh, I remember now why: French cars don't have best bowers, which work in left site traffic :wink:

after-hours test pattern (now we get infomercials at 3:00 o'clock in the morning)



rotary phone (my folks still have a few in their apartment, including a white wall-mounted one in the kitchen)

Flash bulbs
Ouch! Burned my fingers.

Anyone remember when all boys up to a certain age wore knickers. Oft times the were corduroy that sang when you walked.

This was in rural eastern Connecticut in the late 1950's but I know of someone who used to do just exactly that with his pickup truck.The "anchor" was a cinder block with a rope attached to the bumper.