i'm in my late-middish 60s, so there's peeps alive far older than me, & far younger. we all have so many unique experiences of our childhood & teens. here's one itty bitty insignificant aspect of my childhood that i know is unique to those of ~my age & older, but not younger, that latter cohort if they even sometime see these words, will grasp their grammatical meaning but not their emotional weight.
when i was a kid on the sydney north shore, there was a [code]tip top[/code] bakery "factory" many suburbs away that serviced my area, meaning... daily deliveries by Bert the whistling cheery tip top delivery driver, in his quaint sliding door trucklet, to our house, with the loaves still warm, & an aroma just to die for. though he cheerily delivered right to our front door, an extra delight was to run down to meet his truck upon arrival in our cul-de-sac, & stand there as he opened the side sliding door, revealing row after row of glorious fresh baked hot loaves, & the combined smell was marvellous beyond words.
i initially described this as an [i]"itty bitty insignificant aspect"[/i], but maybe it's not, in that each time over the decades that i recall those scenes, i can almost smell those loaves again. so, it really seared itself into my mind. younger peeps will never know this visceral sensation, nor even know of it. that must be, generically, a trope arising over & over & over, across all the generations of social & tech change.
then ofc also we had the daily home delivery of the pint bottles of milk...
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