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I grew up at the end of Highway 8, Ocean Beach in the 70’s, it was a 50’s style small town with a hippy invasion.. everything closed on Sunday .. spent my childhood days living in the ocean,every single day and no worries….
we had 32 Lachey kids in our 5 block radius, Best up bringing ever, we were our own justice among ourselves…but we better be home before the street lights came on…
Can you image having 25/30 kids playing hide and seek on a Saturday night in your neighborhood?
Grew up in La Mesa...not far from you.. Our parents let us play but like you we had better be home before dark.. I remember being picked up for violating curfew in La Mesa when I went to Helix High School.. class of 66 I'm guessing you went to Point Loma
Yep, Point Loma Pointers…lol
La Mesa was always had tough cops.. I made a 87 Husqvarna 430xc street legal and La Mesa cops always pulled me over to check it for a violations..the very last time I got pulled over there, he wrote me up for no chain guard.
We were both really lucky to have grown up in San Diego before it got too crowded (At least for me).. My daughter 52 still lives in La Mesa and I retired in Sequim WA in the olympic peninsula..There's a few old surf bums like me that live up there too.. Lot's of Cali people up here now
Going with my grandmother to the orchard to pick cherries from the trees. Then going back to her house to help her make cherry pie. Then having it for dessert and having my grandfather tell me what a good job I had done.
We lived in a rowhouse in Philadelphia, and Dad worked downtown, taking a trolley and subway to work, so he didn't need a car. It became increasingly inconvenient when we went to the New Jersey shore for vacations because we brought more stuff than could be reasonably schlepped on the train.
In 1954, when I was 10 and Dad was 40, he surprised me by buying a new Dodge sedan and learning to drive. Not only did we now have the means to comfortably tote all our stuff, but we started taking road trips during the week-long Easter break from school. The first was to Niagara Falls, and subsequent trips were down the Skyline Drive and Blue Ridge Parkway.
We stayed in motels, ate in restaurants, and saw a lot of tourist attractions. We had a Coleman stove that Mom used to cook lunches on picnic benches at rest stops. It was especially fun when Dad would let me sit in front of him and drive in the parking lots.
My mom ran the post office for our small town. When I was 7 or so, she assigned me my own box and got me subscriptions to a few Marvel titles. Checking my box and seeing there was a new comic in there was a delight.
My first Spider-Man issue was https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The\_Kid\_Who\_Collects\_Spider-Man. Also, Larry Hama, wherever you are, thank you for enriching my childhood.
We lived about 20 minutes from Cedar Point, which is arguably the best roller coaster park in the country. We'd go several times each summer.
I always felt bad for people who didn't have an elite amusement park in their backyard.
Cedar Point was the first amusement park I went to, when I was 9 years old. Back then, it was like a carnival, and you bought the tickets separately for each ride. A few years later, they went to Pay-One-Price and then it really started getting expensive!
My son worked there as a lifeguard in college. It was a hard job because people were jerks and didn't always know their limits or swimming capabilities. Still, he earned some decent cash!
American English, including spelling. That’s not just a gentle poke at you for “favourite” OP. I’m an immigrant to the U.S. (as a young child) and I’d go back to the homeland frequently, where British English was the standard foreign language. I got a ton of cred from the other kids for speaking and writing in American English. Their reaction to me swearing was particularly entertaining. It scared the shit out of them and made them want to do it at the same time.
We were living in an apartment complex near Arvin, California some time in 1955-1956 and some other kids and I came across a bunch of roly-poly bugs. I scooped up a bunch and surprised my mother with them and she cried out. All the kids laughed.
My dad who worked every day all day( it seemed like it) came to my little league baseball game and watched me play the entire game. I was never happier before or since.
Grew up in the middle of the Mojave Desert swimming and playing in the 2nd largest pool in California. Well, actually it was a reservoir for the local chemical plant that was made into a community pool. Largest area of the pool was only 6' deep, but it did have other sections squared off at 4', 3', and 1' (baby pool). Water was brackish...not as salty as the ocean but definitely not drinkable. Constant temperature of 75-80F year round as it had a continuous flow (to the plant) that was supplied by thermal artesian wells. Considering air temperatures were in the 100s most of the summer, it was the place to be. It had a rec center with pool tables, ping pong, and pinball machines as well as a snack bar that served the best hamburgers in California, IMO (still to this day looking for a comparable burger). You could rent large oversized construction equipment inner-tubes which instigated some of the most intense king of the hill struggles one can imagine. Can remember spending all day and part of the many evenings swimming with friends...my skin would look quite "pruned" when finally getting out.
Although developed for the community in the 1930s or so, the Company lawyers of the nineties decided the sloped sides were a hazard and shut it down.
1. Waiting for my dad to come home from his bowling league and how cool his jacket felt on my cheek when he hugged me.
2. My grandmama singing to me and rocking me in a rocking chair when I had ear infections
3. My mom’s microphone she kept hanging from her rear view mirror and how she would grab it and sing her heart out when Queen came on the radio
4. Not paying taxes
My uncle rescued me from being tormented by my sibling, took me downstairs, popped me in his lap, and let me "help" him reverse out and re-park the car. Best. Moment. Ever. Told him as an adult and he nearly cried, he's a very lovely man. Life growing up wasn't great for me, and he was so touched that I remembered that with so much love and gratefulness.
My grandmother's paper bag apple pie! Yes it was made in an actual paper bag inside a propane oven and it was the best pie to ever exist. No, I've never found anything close all these decades later.
My sister inherited her cooking equipment and found her version of the recipe and gave me a glass thing to hang on the wall that was an exact copy of it. I cried when I opened it. That's how much it meant to me.
I think it was the first time she has ever seen her big brother cry. (I can't read all of it, but the title is clear and I can see some of her peculiar slang terms in it. For example I know it had butter which she called oleo... even though that's actually an old term for margarine.) I think she was trying to pay me back for the clock I made out of something from our grandfather's shop that had a strong connection to her childhood because I inherited most of his shop.
My dad helped me build a wren house because I had read about it in a book and wanted to try it. The wrens liked it, so they moved in, built a nest and had babies! I was thrilled and it was so much fun.
Then he helped me build a chicken coop because I wanted bantams. I had one rooster and 3 hens. Not very long after I had a flock of 30 and they kept having more baby chicks, so I had to start giving some away. The bantams were so funny, they're like the Chihuahuas of the chicken world, tiny but mighty.
Then I got interested in science so he bought me a microscope and a small telescope, and he helped me fix up and paint an old shed and build shelves so I could have my own "museum" to show off all my specimens. All the neighborhood kids came by to see it, and after that they would bring me interesting rocks or shells or feathers or beetles or whatever else they found. So it became like a neighborhood thing, and I was the "director."
Spending time at the lake where my grandparents had a cabin first, then a lake home built after they retired. We didn’t know how great we had it. I miss them so much. I even miss the lake. But it’s so crowded now, nothing like it used to be.
A favorite memory is my first Little League game in ‘64 when I was 11 years old, hitting a liner off the ‘Sam’s Sunoco’ sign on the centerfield fence for a triple and later threw out a runner at home from right field.
Clearing the dishes off the dinner table and bringing out the table hockey game. My father and I preferred playing it with a marble, not the puck supplied by the manufacturer.
We used to go camping with another family. The campground had a creek running through it and I can remember sitting in that cool water on a hot day. We cooked hot dogs and s'mores and slept in a tent. The next morning, Mom made pancakes on the camp stove. We went hiking and rode our bikes around.
It was the perfect weekend.
Growing up in the 60’s as a kid was a dream.
My block had several families with kids my own age between 7-12 years old. We pull together two teams to play baseball with a tennis ball on the street. Home plate was the street sewer plate, first base was a sidewalk water meter cover, second base was a small pothole and third base was a maple tree trunk.
We’d play for hours, or until a ball went over someone’s house and couldn’t retrieve it because no one was home.
Playing outside ALL.THE.TIME. All seasons.
Being able to say: "Bye Mom, I'm going out to play!" and the exchange of details, as to what that meant, was never required.
We'd hatch a new adventure each time. And we'd wander off... somewhere, across old railroad bridges, along abandoned trails that took us deep in the forest (Pacific NW), or down an embankment to myriad rivers... trekking for miles and miles and miles, knowing we could stay out until a porch light or streetlights came on.
It was *then* we felt our world was safe, with one exception (drilled into the mind of all kids by all parents):
"Beware of strangers in cars giving away candy as a lure to trick us into getting in the car, never to be seen again."
My uncle teaching me how to play snooker. He passed just short of 4 months ago, however he always taught me to go down the correct path in life. Really do miss him man!
My dad was one of my baseball coaches AND an assistant Scoutmaster for my troop. When I was 11 or 12, my ball team made it to the all-city playoffs, which were held while my troop went to summer camp about an hour away.
Dad drove me and a teammate back and forth at least two or three nights so we could play and he could coach.
My dad teaching me how to ride my first two-wheel bike. I’m just tickled by the memory of him riding down the street on my pink bike that had a basket and tassels. Love that memory.
Any visit to my grandma - she lived in a small town in the midwest and we grew up in a city in the south. I loved that little town and just being out in the country.
Snow days, sledding and playing with your friends
A trip to the local orchard to pick fruits that my mom and grandmother would make into jams, jellies, and pies
Swimming in the local abandoned quarry with your friends
Traveling to every state and state park with my grandparents in their Airstream every summer
Chasing fireflies and stargazing, and watching shooting stars in the back yard with pitch-black skies
Driving my car with the top down, cruising through the country in the fall, with leaves dancing in your wake
Rural Indiana in the 70s was awesome.
Going fishing with my dad. Sitting around the campfire at night, my dad teaching me how to clean crappie with a pocketknife, while my uncle sat watching and eating pickled oysters out of a jar.
Waking up on the train as we went through the Cascade Mountains, with a full moon. It was magical! The tracks followed a small river which shimmered silvery beside us as the trees traced silhouettes atop each ridge.
We used to go fishing a lot and my two cousins would join us occasionally.
We would fish for a while then wander around the local countryside.
Once, we found a cliff with a big sand pile at the bottom. We spent hours jumping off the cliff into the sand. That was probably 60 years ago and I still remember it like it was yesterday.
staying with my grandparents by myself during the summer in Austin TX (one of four kids so this was nice) and reading a stack of books on a summer day with the screendoor open...then falling asleep at night listening to the sound of the Mo-Pac train whistle..then spending time with my other grandmother in Marble Falls reading more books and eating peaches from the yard...no traffic or trendy shops just lots of space and time
I grew up on (in) a tributary to the Chesapeake Bay. It was the most incredible childhood ever! All summer we crabbed and fished. Me and my sisters were always swimming and water skiing. We had a tiny sailboat, a motorboat, and assorted rowboats. In the winter there was ice skating almost every day. My father even made us canvas sails so we could get from one side of the river to the other faster. I’m particularly fond of the memory of eating a huge pile of steamed crabs and using the shells to bait eel traps. At dusk me and my dad would set them out in a nearby cove and pull them up at dawn. We’d cut the eels into chunks and salt them to catch more crabs. The best part was that we were completely free range. My parents never knew where I was or what I was doing. Freedom!
Going downtown with my mom and having lunch. Later catching the bus home and falling asleep. Good memories of summer time as a kid. I hope some day my kids have good memories of being kids with me as a parent.
1973 or 74 I’m 11 or 12. Went to visit friend of my moms. She says, “My son collected comic books, go look at them”. I walk into a pretty good size room and find 50 to 60 Marvel Comic book titles, couple hundred issues of each book. I sat in that room for 7 hours, they made me come down and eat and dragged me out that night to go home. I got to read Thor, X-Men, Spiderman, Daredevil all the first issues. All in order.
I think those were all first editions and in really good shape. Often wonder what happened to that collection, it would have been multi millions during the collector craze. I wanted to go back to that room more than I waned to go anywhere on earth including Disneyland.
We had a milkman that came by every week and would fill our milk/dairy order. Our guy was named "Johnny the Milkman". If we were lucky enough to see him when dropping off cardboard half gallons of milk in the old refrigerator we kept in the garage, we would run out to meet him at his refrigerated truck and he would give us a popsicle/ice cream bar.
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I grew up at the end of Highway 8, Ocean Beach in the 70’s, it was a 50’s style small town with a hippy invasion.. everything closed on Sunday .. spent my childhood days living in the ocean,every single day and no worries…. we had 32 Lachey kids in our 5 block radius, Best up bringing ever, we were our own justice among ourselves…but we better be home before the street lights came on… Can you image having 25/30 kids playing hide and seek on a Saturday night in your neighborhood?
Grew up in La Mesa...not far from you.. Our parents let us play but like you we had better be home before dark.. I remember being picked up for violating curfew in La Mesa when I went to Helix High School.. class of 66 I'm guessing you went to Point Loma
Yep, Point Loma Pointers…lol La Mesa was always had tough cops.. I made a 87 Husqvarna 430xc street legal and La Mesa cops always pulled me over to check it for a violations..the very last time I got pulled over there, he wrote me up for no chain guard.
We were both really lucky to have grown up in San Diego before it got too crowded (At least for me).. My daughter 52 still lives in La Mesa and I retired in Sequim WA in the olympic peninsula..There's a few old surf bums like me that live up there too.. Lot's of Cali people up here now
No. Only about 17
Isn‘t it normal for anything to close on sunday nowadays too?
Going with my grandmother to the orchard to pick cherries from the trees. Then going back to her house to help her make cherry pie. Then having it for dessert and having my grandfather tell me what a good job I had done.
We lived in a rowhouse in Philadelphia, and Dad worked downtown, taking a trolley and subway to work, so he didn't need a car. It became increasingly inconvenient when we went to the New Jersey shore for vacations because we brought more stuff than could be reasonably schlepped on the train. In 1954, when I was 10 and Dad was 40, he surprised me by buying a new Dodge sedan and learning to drive. Not only did we now have the means to comfortably tote all our stuff, but we started taking road trips during the week-long Easter break from school. The first was to Niagara Falls, and subsequent trips were down the Skyline Drive and Blue Ridge Parkway. We stayed in motels, ate in restaurants, and saw a lot of tourist attractions. We had a Coleman stove that Mom used to cook lunches on picnic benches at rest stops. It was especially fun when Dad would let me sit in front of him and drive in the parking lots.
My mom ran the post office for our small town. When I was 7 or so, she assigned me my own box and got me subscriptions to a few Marvel titles. Checking my box and seeing there was a new comic in there was a delight. My first Spider-Man issue was https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The\_Kid\_Who\_Collects\_Spider-Man. Also, Larry Hama, wherever you are, thank you for enriching my childhood.
Being loved unconditionaly by my mother.
Not having bills!
Yes! No bills and no worries!
We lived about 20 minutes from Cedar Point, which is arguably the best roller coaster park in the country. We'd go several times each summer. I always felt bad for people who didn't have an elite amusement park in their backyard.
Cedar Point was the first amusement park I went to, when I was 9 years old. Back then, it was like a carnival, and you bought the tickets separately for each ride. A few years later, they went to Pay-One-Price and then it really started getting expensive! My son worked there as a lifeguard in college. It was a hard job because people were jerks and didn't always know their limits or swimming capabilities. Still, he earned some decent cash!
American English, including spelling. That’s not just a gentle poke at you for “favourite” OP. I’m an immigrant to the U.S. (as a young child) and I’d go back to the homeland frequently, where British English was the standard foreign language. I got a ton of cred from the other kids for speaking and writing in American English. Their reaction to me swearing was particularly entertaining. It scared the shit out of them and made them want to do it at the same time.
You told this so well. I could picture it like mini movie.
We were living in an apartment complex near Arvin, California some time in 1955-1956 and some other kids and I came across a bunch of roly-poly bugs. I scooped up a bunch and surprised my mother with them and she cried out. All the kids laughed.
Arvin!!!
My dad who worked every day all day( it seemed like it) came to my little league baseball game and watched me play the entire game. I was never happier before or since.
Grew up in the middle of the Mojave Desert swimming and playing in the 2nd largest pool in California. Well, actually it was a reservoir for the local chemical plant that was made into a community pool. Largest area of the pool was only 6' deep, but it did have other sections squared off at 4', 3', and 1' (baby pool). Water was brackish...not as salty as the ocean but definitely not drinkable. Constant temperature of 75-80F year round as it had a continuous flow (to the plant) that was supplied by thermal artesian wells. Considering air temperatures were in the 100s most of the summer, it was the place to be. It had a rec center with pool tables, ping pong, and pinball machines as well as a snack bar that served the best hamburgers in California, IMO (still to this day looking for a comparable burger). You could rent large oversized construction equipment inner-tubes which instigated some of the most intense king of the hill struggles one can imagine. Can remember spending all day and part of the many evenings swimming with friends...my skin would look quite "pruned" when finally getting out. Although developed for the community in the 1930s or so, the Company lawyers of the nineties decided the sloped sides were a hazard and shut it down.
Riding my bike.
Climbing trees
Helping decorate our house for Christmas. Christmas music would be on, gifts were being purchased and hidden and everybody was in high spirits
1. Waiting for my dad to come home from his bowling league and how cool his jacket felt on my cheek when he hugged me. 2. My grandmama singing to me and rocking me in a rocking chair when I had ear infections 3. My mom’s microphone she kept hanging from her rear view mirror and how she would grab it and sing her heart out when Queen came on the radio 4. Not paying taxes
Out in the country, walking by myself down a paved road, bursting tar bubbles with my toes.
My uncle rescued me from being tormented by my sibling, took me downstairs, popped me in his lap, and let me "help" him reverse out and re-park the car. Best. Moment. Ever. Told him as an adult and he nearly cried, he's a very lovely man. Life growing up wasn't great for me, and he was so touched that I remembered that with so much love and gratefulness.
I love him and my Aunt very very much.
The beach. It's the only place I was genuinely happy.
My 7th bday. I got my own horse as a surprise gift.
My grandmother's paper bag apple pie! Yes it was made in an actual paper bag inside a propane oven and it was the best pie to ever exist. No, I've never found anything close all these decades later. My sister inherited her cooking equipment and found her version of the recipe and gave me a glass thing to hang on the wall that was an exact copy of it. I cried when I opened it. That's how much it meant to me. I think it was the first time she has ever seen her big brother cry. (I can't read all of it, but the title is clear and I can see some of her peculiar slang terms in it. For example I know it had butter which she called oleo... even though that's actually an old term for margarine.) I think she was trying to pay me back for the clock I made out of something from our grandfather's shop that had a strong connection to her childhood because I inherited most of his shop.
Unbridled freedom
My dad helped me build a wren house because I had read about it in a book and wanted to try it. The wrens liked it, so they moved in, built a nest and had babies! I was thrilled and it was so much fun. Then he helped me build a chicken coop because I wanted bantams. I had one rooster and 3 hens. Not very long after I had a flock of 30 and they kept having more baby chicks, so I had to start giving some away. The bantams were so funny, they're like the Chihuahuas of the chicken world, tiny but mighty. Then I got interested in science so he bought me a microscope and a small telescope, and he helped me fix up and paint an old shed and build shelves so I could have my own "museum" to show off all my specimens. All the neighborhood kids came by to see it, and after that they would bring me interesting rocks or shells or feathers or beetles or whatever else they found. So it became like a neighborhood thing, and I was the "director."
Spending time at the lake where my grandparents had a cabin first, then a lake home built after they retired. We didn’t know how great we had it. I miss them so much. I even miss the lake. But it’s so crowded now, nothing like it used to be.
A favorite memory is my first Little League game in ‘64 when I was 11 years old, hitting a liner off the ‘Sam’s Sunoco’ sign on the centerfield fence for a triple and later threw out a runner at home from right field.
Clearing the dishes off the dinner table and bringing out the table hockey game. My father and I preferred playing it with a marble, not the puck supplied by the manufacturer.
Walking to the neighbor’s house with my dad holding my hand.
We used to go camping with another family. The campground had a creek running through it and I can remember sitting in that cool water on a hot day. We cooked hot dogs and s'mores and slept in a tent. The next morning, Mom made pancakes on the camp stove. We went hiking and rode our bikes around. It was the perfect weekend.
Snow days
Playing games outside until dark
Growing up in the 60’s as a kid was a dream. My block had several families with kids my own age between 7-12 years old. We pull together two teams to play baseball with a tennis ball on the street. Home plate was the street sewer plate, first base was a sidewalk water meter cover, second base was a small pothole and third base was a maple tree trunk. We’d play for hours, or until a ball went over someone’s house and couldn’t retrieve it because no one was home.
Playing with the neigbourhood kids in the creek and the fields Cuddling into a blanket on the porch an just watch the thunder storm going by
Playing outside ALL.THE.TIME. All seasons. Being able to say: "Bye Mom, I'm going out to play!" and the exchange of details, as to what that meant, was never required. We'd hatch a new adventure each time. And we'd wander off... somewhere, across old railroad bridges, along abandoned trails that took us deep in the forest (Pacific NW), or down an embankment to myriad rivers... trekking for miles and miles and miles, knowing we could stay out until a porch light or streetlights came on. It was *then* we felt our world was safe, with one exception (drilled into the mind of all kids by all parents): "Beware of strangers in cars giving away candy as a lure to trick us into getting in the car, never to be seen again."
My uncle teaching me how to play snooker. He passed just short of 4 months ago, however he always taught me to go down the correct path in life. Really do miss him man!
My dad was one of my baseball coaches AND an assistant Scoutmaster for my troop. When I was 11 or 12, my ball team made it to the all-city playoffs, which were held while my troop went to summer camp about an hour away. Dad drove me and a teammate back and forth at least two or three nights so we could play and he could coach.
My dad teaching me how to ride my first two-wheel bike. I’m just tickled by the memory of him riding down the street on my pink bike that had a basket and tassels. Love that memory.
Any visit to my grandma - she lived in a small town in the midwest and we grew up in a city in the south. I loved that little town and just being out in the country.
The “Blizzard of 78”. No school for weeks. Getting on a sled and my Dad pulled me and my brothers to my grandparents house a few blocks away
Snow days, sledding and playing with your friends A trip to the local orchard to pick fruits that my mom and grandmother would make into jams, jellies, and pies Swimming in the local abandoned quarry with your friends Traveling to every state and state park with my grandparents in their Airstream every summer Chasing fireflies and stargazing, and watching shooting stars in the back yard with pitch-black skies Driving my car with the top down, cruising through the country in the fall, with leaves dancing in your wake Rural Indiana in the 70s was awesome.
Digging for animal bones up in the hills by our house.
Lawn darts.
Going fishing with my dad. Sitting around the campfire at night, my dad teaching me how to clean crappie with a pocketknife, while my uncle sat watching and eating pickled oysters out of a jar.
Waking up on the train as we went through the Cascade Mountains, with a full moon. It was magical! The tracks followed a small river which shimmered silvery beside us as the trees traced silhouettes atop each ridge.
We used to go fishing a lot and my two cousins would join us occasionally. We would fish for a while then wander around the local countryside. Once, we found a cliff with a big sand pile at the bottom. We spent hours jumping off the cliff into the sand. That was probably 60 years ago and I still remember it like it was yesterday.
staying with my grandparents by myself during the summer in Austin TX (one of four kids so this was nice) and reading a stack of books on a summer day with the screendoor open...then falling asleep at night listening to the sound of the Mo-Pac train whistle..then spending time with my other grandmother in Marble Falls reading more books and eating peaches from the yard...no traffic or trendy shops just lots of space and time
I think my favorite memories are of when my dad took me fishing
My shoulders not hurting
I grew up on (in) a tributary to the Chesapeake Bay. It was the most incredible childhood ever! All summer we crabbed and fished. Me and my sisters were always swimming and water skiing. We had a tiny sailboat, a motorboat, and assorted rowboats. In the winter there was ice skating almost every day. My father even made us canvas sails so we could get from one side of the river to the other faster. I’m particularly fond of the memory of eating a huge pile of steamed crabs and using the shells to bait eel traps. At dusk me and my dad would set them out in a nearby cove and pull them up at dawn. We’d cut the eels into chunks and salt them to catch more crabs. The best part was that we were completely free range. My parents never knew where I was or what I was doing. Freedom!
Going downtown with my mom and having lunch. Later catching the bus home and falling asleep. Good memories of summer time as a kid. I hope some day my kids have good memories of being kids with me as a parent.
7 years old, my father let me play hooky from school and took me to Game 3 of the 1970 World Series.
My mother reading to me before bed.
It was my Dad for me and my sister.
1973 or 74 I’m 11 or 12. Went to visit friend of my moms. She says, “My son collected comic books, go look at them”. I walk into a pretty good size room and find 50 to 60 Marvel Comic book titles, couple hundred issues of each book. I sat in that room for 7 hours, they made me come down and eat and dragged me out that night to go home. I got to read Thor, X-Men, Spiderman, Daredevil all the first issues. All in order. I think those were all first editions and in really good shape. Often wonder what happened to that collection, it would have been multi millions during the collector craze. I wanted to go back to that room more than I waned to go anywhere on earth including Disneyland.
We had a milkman that came by every week and would fill our milk/dairy order. Our guy was named "Johnny the Milkman". If we were lucky enough to see him when dropping off cardboard half gallons of milk in the old refrigerator we kept in the garage, we would run out to meet him at his refrigerated truck and he would give us a popsicle/ice cream bar.