Thankful Tuesday~ My Dad Was the Milkman

My Dad was the Milkman

Foothill Dairy 1950’s

If you follow my blog you know my father drove a truck in WWII.  Right after the War he drove a city bus down in El Monte, in the Los Angeles Basin.  I can remember seeing an article from a newspaper where he had gotten an award for being the “The Safest Driver.” He had gotten no tickets or had not had any accidents the whole time he was there.  I am not sure how long he drove a bus because it was before my time.

My Dad was the Milkman.   OK don’t laugh I have heard all the jokes about “The Milkman.”  When I was young it was the standing joke, Your dad was the milkman..hahaha… Really I did not get it until I was much older. For some of you who may not remember these jokes milkmen use to actually deliver milk to peoples houses. It was said that these and other delivery men were hit on by the lonely housewives producing children who were not the husbands.

That is right back in the old days you could have milk delivered right to your house.  That is how his career working for Foothill Dairy in Azusa Ca., started.  He went door to door delivering milk.  I am told he got up at 3am and worked really long days.  You could really tell what a compassionate man my Dad was when he befriended a little old lady on his route and she became our Aunt Pansy.  I don’t remember much about Aunt Pansy but I know that she had no other family, or she did not like her family, so she spent all the holidays with us. My sister told me she was mean and grumpy, I don’t remember. When she passed away she left all of her possessions to Dad.  I even heard that she had left him some money too.  He was always such a kind man and he would give you the shirt off his back.  I am sure he did a lot of things to help out this old lady as well as others on his route that was just the way he was. Come to think of it my husband has those same traits.

Many years down the road my father moved up in the company and became a wholesale driver.  This is the part of his career I remember.  He drove the same route for many years.  This route consisted of business’s, such as restaurants and liquor stores.  I can remember what a treat it was for me and my brother to go on his route with him.  We could never sleep the night before, we were so excited.

Dad, Late 40’s-early 50’s

We would have to go to the Dairy to pick up his order for the day.  The Dairy itself was a pretty cool place.  All the cows and milking machines were fascinating to the young girl who held her father’s hand as we toured the dairy.  There were men there where all they did all day was hook up cows to the milking machines.  In the loading dock of the dairy was a long conveyer belt that came out of the cooler and on to a platform so the drivers could get their order and put it on the truck.  My dad would hand over his order and like magic everything on his list started coming out on that conveyer belt. He would check the items against his order. We got to check it off the list as he shouted “24 quarts whole. 15 pounds ole” (butter), etc. Once the truck was loaded we were off down the road.  At Dad’s first stop we had to always wait for the store to open.  My Dad was always at least a half hour early.  So we always sat in the truck and slept until the owner came.  Well Dad slept I was just too excited.

My father was a genius when it came to the numbers part of the sale.  He could add those numbers in his head in a wiz.  He did keep a notebook with him and some of the bigger sales he made he might use it to add them up.  He taught me to always add everything twice to make sure you come up with the same numbers.  After all there were no calculators in those days.

As the sun came up it was my favorite time.  Going to see all his customers was a dream.  They all loved “Lefty” and always made such a fuss over us.  It seemed like our birthdays or Christmas when we went with him.  Everyone was always giving us stuff to eat.  It was like one of those progressive dinners.  You got a little something everywhere you went.   I will always remember those times spent with my father as some of the best days of my childhood

Mom, Dad, and my sister the clown, about 1955, notice the milk bottle in Mom’s hand

At Thanksgiving his bonus was a fresh turkey.  I still have one of the boxes they came in.  Although the box is not in great shape it holds memories, memories of a simpler time

With Christmas came the big party.  It was always held at the VFW hall across the street from the dairy.  It was right next to the trout farm.  I don’t remember much other than Santa came every year and it seemed like the more people drank those special drinks that the children couldn’t have, the happier they all got   I tasted one of those special drinks one time and I sure did not understand why these adults would want to drink something that burned your throat, make your eyes water and make you want to throw up.  The Christmas party was a big part of our Christmas festivities. It seems one year my sister, the clown had some of those special drinks because she kept falling off her chair.

Foothill Dairy itself was a big part of our life.  My Dad worked there for more than 30 years before he finally retired.  Foothill Dairy use to sit in North Azusa at the entrance to Azusa Canyon but it stands no more.  It has been gone for a very long time and in its place they have built condominiums. In my memory I will always be able to see Foothill Dairy. In my dreams I will revisit the dairy and hold my Dad’s hand once again.

Life moves on.

Yes, today on Thankful Tuesday I am glad “My Dad Was the Milkman.”