Today's blog was inspired when Blond Girl e-mailed some of us to relate our earliest memory in life. My memory isn't as sharp nowadays. In fact, I don't remember Blond Girl, though she says I commented on her blog. I comment on so many blogs I don't remember. But I do have some blurry memories of my early childhood and one in particular causes me to smile.
When my parents lived in our first house, we were the traditional family with dad going to work and mom staying home with the family, which was just me at the time. Back then, it was common to get visits from door-to-door salesmen and delivery people--the Fuller Brush man, Avon, milkmen and even Bible salesmen. But my favorite was the bread delivery guy.
One of my earliest childhood memories recalled when the bread guy came to our house. This bright young man brought with him his portable display case overflowing with frosted rolls, cupcakes, luncheon desserts and sweets of all types. And when he set it down, it was all at eye level to a toddler like me. Heck, there was no reason to go to the grocery store any more. We had it all right there. I was in awe.
When I visited my folks recently, I recalled my memory of that young bread delivery guy for them. Listening, my father leaned forward as he folded his hands across his lap, looking both curious and suspicious. "We never had any breadman," he said. My mother quickly agreed, saying that we had eggs and milk delivered way back when, but no bread.
Now if I were an instigator, I might have followed up. "Don't you remember, ma? The breadman came on Tuesdays and Thursdays, the plumber on Mondays, the masseuse on Wednesdays, and the gardener on Fridays." My mother said that some businesses delivered bread and it was possible some guy stopped by to show off his wares, trying to build his route. But she didn't recall anything like I remembered.