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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required I remember back when times were simple. You could have your milk delivered to your door. One of my favorite memories was waiting for the Helm’s bakery livery to drive slowly down our street, alerting us with his musical whistle. Specially built Chevy suburban panel wagon’s, bright and shiny yellow, contained the most heavenly scents of do-nuts and cinnamon swirls, rolls and breads to delight the most discerning. Our driver, we called by name, would stop, get out of his seat and come to the back to open double doors to the smiling faces, of usually about three or four neighbor kids besides my sister and myself. The most difficult part was trying to decide what delicious pastry we would put on our monthly tab. Fine wooden drawers with glass windows let colorful do-nuts peek through. We would get our usual loaf of potato bread mom would tell us to buy, but then, quite often we were treated to a glazed jelly do-nut or a chocolate covered cream filled éclair. Mmmmm my taste buds tingle at the fond memories. Those succulent delights would be out of the bag and into our mouths before we hit the front door. By the time we got inside all that would be left would be little pieces of sticky wax paper and our gooey little hands. As I recall those happy memories of the late ‘50’s, my only regret is that I am sorry my children were not given the thrill of hearing “Here comes the Helmsman”, let’s beat feet! © September 12, 2012
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