The Milkman Cometh

If you grew up in the 50’s or 60’s, you probably remember the milkman delivering milk fresh from the local dairy to your house early in the morning before dad(and mom, in our case) would leave for work. Mom would leave a note in one of the empty glass bottles in the milkbox on the porch with the order. (Sometimes I would sneak out and “correct” the order by adding “5 CHOCOLATE!!!" It never worked, but had it not been for my persistence-----and mom’s largesse---I would not have tasted chocolate milk until I was 18.)





One of my early sound memories is the clinking of milkbottles as the milkman walked from his truck to the porch and back again. It sounded like this:





Years ago, a composer proposed establishing a "sound museum" where one could preserve all the sounds rapidly disappearing from our daily soundscape: e.g. the sound of old train whistles, the rings of old dial telephones, the snap and crack of bonfires. I don’t know how he fared, but it’s a worthy idea.

I made the above recording using genuine “Harrison Park Dairy, Sparta, Michigan” glass milkbottles, complete with the wire carrier, from my folks’ garage.

It’s not the same, of course. Those sounds of old are connected to the crispness of Autumn mornings, the smell of fresh coffee and salt-rising bread toast, and hugs from mom and dad, all gone forever and terribly missed.