I grew up in the days of milk deliveries. I still remember the insulated metal box sitting at the back door. Milk arrived in glass bottles, and it always seemed to taste better than milk from plastic bottles. The kids had a rivalry over which milk tasted the best. They really did taste different too, since the dairies didn't all have the same breeds of cows, and might have different pastures for their grazing. The simple pleasures of a Michigan childhood.
When I was in college, there was this older black gentleman who had a horse drawn wagon with all kinds of fruits and vegetables. They were farm-fresh, better than anything you could get in a grocery. He’d call out his presence and if you wanted something,he’d stop and let you select. And we’re not talking the olden days either. This was the late 80s, in the slums of Baltimore.