When I was a youngster, sprawling shopping malls were just arriving. There were no discount stores and no big box stores. We depended mostly on neighborhood retail offerings and downtown. Quite significantly, we also counted on delivery men.

Deliveries then could involve anything from milk to coal to department store purchases. Coal deliveries in late summer were critical to our winter warmth. The smell of coal and sight of soot-stained snow are still vivid memories. Even now, I sometimes think of how heating with coal required seemingly constant attention. I remember clearly the ordeal of stoking the fire and watching my strong father toss shovel after shovel full of coal into the furnace to keep us warm. We knew spring was approaching when the coal bin was allowed to dwindle.

While Mom depended on the "Milk Man" to deliver all dairy items twice each week, we kids liked his truck that frequently had stray ice chips we savored on hot summer days. Ayres, Block's, and Wasson's, department stores of the day, all delivered purchases. These trucks were especially visible after shopping expeditions for back-to-school wardrobes and again in the spring when we were being outfitted with new Easter finery.

Along with delivery men there were street sellers who went door-to-door. The "Strawberry Man" was ever so memorable. Anyone who ever heard his chant could probably repeat it still today. "Strawwwwberriesssss, Strawwwwberriesssss, Get your fresh Strawwwwberriesssss!" My mother would dash out to catch him, take coins out of her apron, and pick out several pints of Indiana strawberries that we knew would be strawberry shortcake by dinner. (Remember these were the days when we could only get Indiana strawberries. The rest of the year we had other seasonal fruit. Berries from other parts of the country or world were unheard of).

Then there was the Fuller Brush Man who'd come knocking on doors with everything from brushes to scrub floors to tooth brushes. What fun it was to make selections from his case of many brushes. The ice cream peddler was every child's favorite on warm summer days. I also remember the man who'd come offering to sharpen knives and scissors, and yes, those encyclopedia salesmen.

The delivery men and street peddlers, their idiosyncrasies and services, have come and gone. Our recollections of them are now part of remembering the good old days. Aren't there times when you just wish for that personalized attention and, yes, some of the bygone flare of customer service?