As a boy I remember each day there would be a regular procession of people delivering stuff to the house. Milk, eggs and other dairy products from the milkman. Bread from the bread man. Mail from the mail man. The newspaper from the paper boy. The same guys every day. They were part of the texture of daily life; the ebb and flow of people and their interactions, all from within your home. They were busy but they always had time to say hello.
I haven’t seen one for many years. Our children never saw one.
Soon, home delivery of mail will stop. Ours will stop this summer. Replace by a mailbox, which fortunately for us will be conveniently located in front of the park next door to us.
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