Yes, Virginia, There Is A Milkman

Just when I was feeling a little bit blue tonight about not being able to celebrate Christmas with any extended family, and being ready for bed at 10:00 on Christmas Eve, I got a text from my sister.

“Was milk delivered to our house in Colby?”

I sensed this was a cell phone shout out attempt at settling some sort of debate. Knowing my parents are at my sister’s house this week for Christmas made it that much more likely.

“Yeah, why?” I replied.

Soon my phone rang. My maiden call on “Face Time” was with my sister to settle an argument about whether or not we had milk delivered to our house when I was a kid. Kim, who would have been in kindergarten or first grade at the time, insisted we did. My mom was sure that we did not. My dad was on the fence until something Kim said swayed him over to her side. My brother-in-law sat through this riveting subject matter for an hour before I was brought in.

I remembered the name of the dairy, Gold Medal. Wait, I mean Gold Meadow. No, that’s not it. A quick web search revealed it was Meadow Gold. And I know they did come to our house, early in the morning, on Tuesdays and Fridays. They left the milk, in a plastic gallon jug, on the front step.

Only in the Windholz family would the pressing question be about the existence of the milkman, and not Santa Claus.

This led to a fact-finding mission about when dairies began using plastic jugs for milk instead of cartons. I seem to recall that in the store the milk was in a cardboard carton, gallon size, but my mom said there’s no way, that they sold it in half gallons because a cardboard carton wouldn’t be strong enough.

Meanwhile my dad is on Facebook, trying to make contact with old friends who might know about such things. Oddly enough, he wasn’t getting a response. Then he’d randomly shout out something about a picture he’d just seen, which most of us had already looked at yesterday. “Hey, a beer bottle Christmas tree.”

So while other people are attending Midnight Mass, having cocktails, or partaking in other Christmas festivities, I’m in my pajamas, heatedly taking sides in the world’s most boring disagreement, and googling “cardboard milk cartons.”

And suddenly I didn’t feel so down any more.

P.S. If anyone from Colby, Kansas, circa early 1980s, can confirm they had milk delivered via Meadow Gold Dairy, or any other business, please let me know. I know I’m right, but some measure of “proof” is being sought before I am to be believed.

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!

© Jennifer Alys Windholz, 2011


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