I guess I qualify as "older than dirt", as I remember all.
Miss having the milk delivered... would particularly have been helpful this past year, as milk, produce and beer were pretty much the only impetus to leave the house sometimes, this past 13-14 months. But then I also miss the Watkins, Fuller Brush, and the Jewel Tea salesmen, as well as Mrs.Young's little neighborhood grocery store two blocks away, where M&M's were 5¢ a pack, 6 for a quarter.
The one thing that I don't miss....and you made me oh so jealous, when you reminded me of it, was the TV station "test pattern", a regal Indian Chief logo, that I stared at till the cartoons came on at 6am on Saturday morning.
The jealousy part ? In Emporia, Kansas, until about '62 or '63 when "Catfish Cable" came into existence.....we only had ONE channel, CBS from Topeka !
Loved visiting my mother's aunt in Wichita because on Sunday evening we could choose between "Lassie" and the Disney Show on that "other channel"......NBC.

First car was a '53 Desoto that my sister and I gave $100 for, and shared until she went off to college in '69. Uuuuugly bulbous pink/beige 4dr automatic with a 218 cubic inch V8 ! Not exactly a "chick magnet"... but then, I could only drive from 7am-7pm, as I was only 14 with a "restricted license" until I turned 16, and was then gifted my father's '64 Jeep Wagoneer. Which at that time, was only a very tiny step above Mom's Mercury station wagon in the realm of "cool".

Damn....is 67+ actually ancient ? Sure glad I don't feel like it. (most of the time !)

I'm in Humble Texas Big
any time you wanna help me
feel free
I love dollars and gift cards
new rods and reels would be preciated
and if you wanna
I could use a new foul weather suit
I don't need a boat
I don't have a trailer hitch
Bad: I have a trailer hitch (receiver) for a JEEP Wagoneer. You can have it for my favorite price ($0.00) if you pay the shipping. It was sent to me by a "big box" store after I had already cancelled my order. I let them know they could have it back, if they would send a representative to pick it up. No response. This thing has all the bolts, nuts, and installation instructions included. I know. You're not interested either. Oh, well. Meanwhile, the Bedouins are back at the oasis, eating their dates.

I realize this will date me. Maybe even get a laugh! That is assuming that you readers have ever in your lives made lye soap, or have seen your parents, or grandparents make it. While it isn’t hard to make, my mother would never let me get close when she did the final touches of adding the lye to this concoction.

She would save up scraps from the hog that we had killed the previous fall, the skin from the bacon rind, and such. Also cooking grease from frying sausages and bacon. I don’t know how she remembered the ratios of the ingredients, but she always seemed to know just how much of what to add. I know there are formulas on making lye, but we never went that far, but purchased it in small cans.

My job was to get the black kettle that probably help 30 or 40 gallons, get it out in the open away from any structure and build a fire under it, and fill it about 1/3 full of water. We would then begin to add the pieces of skin, bacon grease and such to this witches’ brew. Finally, she always had me to stand way back from this last step. She would then carefully add lye to the concoction which I believe was the final step to set the process in motion. If you are of a mind to repeat this process, do not assume I have remembered all the ingredients or the proportions. I don’t pretend to be accurate.

This brew would boil and bubble for some time and I suppose because of the boiling and such would have reduced the total volume of liquid. After a few hours of cooking, we would remove the remaining wood and let this concoction cool overnight. In the morning, after it had cooled down to the touch, she would take a large butcher knife and cut it into chunks. The color was usually one of yellow, from dark to possibly light yellow. This was strictly due to the proportion of hog parts, as to kitchen grease. If there had been only grease, the soap would have been almost white.

I don’t think my mother ever bought any laundry soap. At least not until she and dad built their home in Saint Jo and moved to town. It was then the first time she had her own washing machine and dryer. All the time before, either Dad or I would drive her into town so she could use the laundromat to do all the family laundry. I believe that is when she stopped with the lye soap I ‘ve described. I suspect she quit using lye soap when she was doing our laundry in town for concern of being laughed at and mocked for being a “hillbilly” or “country bumpkin”. But regardless of all, lye soap really worked and got even dad’s and my clothes that were sometimes stained with oil residue quite clean.

It might also be a sign of how self-sufficient we were. Making soap was just one more thing we did not have to buy. During World War II, being able to grow large gardens, raise our own hogs, having a milk cow, and repairing things caused the rationing during the war less of a burden.

As an aside, my mother, even when they moved to town, or later after dad died, she moved again to Gainesville, she never gave up that black pot. She had a green house in Gainesville and a small business of selling garden bedding plants in the spring, her logo was that black pot hanging in the front yard, filled with flowering plants and a sign “Pearl’s Plants!” Just Sayin…RJS

Nevada...Las Vegas: All the amenities of modern society in a habitat unfit to grow a tomato.—Jason Love

New Mexico...Traveling outside Taos, a man comes upon a Native American lying in the middle of the road with his ear pressed against the blacktop. “What are you doing?” asks the man.

The tribesman replies, “Woman, late 30s, three kids, one barking dog in late model, four-door station wagon, traveling at 65 mph.”

“Amazing! You can tell all of that just by listening to the ground?”

“No,” says the Native American. “They ran over me five minutes ago.”

New York...I moved to New York City for my health. I’m paranoid, and it was the only place where my fears were justified.—Anita Weiss

North Carolina...On his first trip to Boston, the North Carolinian met a girl at a bar and asked her, “Do you go to Harvard?”

The girl responded, “Yale.”

“OK. DO YOU GO TO HARVARD?!”

North Dakota...What’s a seven-course meal in North Dakota? A hamburger and a six-pack.

Ohio...How do you know you’re from Ohio? You own only three spices: salt, pepper, and ketchup.

Oklahoma...How can you tell if an Oklahoman is married? There’s dried chewing tobacco on both sides of his pickup truck.

Oregon...Howard dies and waits in line for judgment. He notices that some souls go right into Heaven, while Satan throws others into a burning pit. But every so often, instead of hurling a poor soul into the fire, the Devil tosses him aside. Curious, Howard asks Satan, ”Excuse me, but why are you tossing them aside instead of flinging them into Hell with the others?”

“They’re from Oregon,” Satan replies. “They’re too wet to burn.”

Pennsylvania...What do you call an Amish guy with his hand in a horse’s mouth? A mechanic.

Rhode Island...Welcome to Rhode Island! Enjoy it, because it ends in 40 feet.

South Carolina...While fishing off Myrtle Beach, a Yankee tourist capsized his boat. Petrified, he yelled to an old guy standing on the shore, “Are there any gators around here?!”

“Naw,” the man hollered back, “they ain’t been around for years!”

Feeling safe, the tourist started swimming toward shore. Halfway there, he asked the guy, “How’d you get rid of the gators?”

“We didn’t do anything,” the old guy said. "The sharks got 'em."