Most kids I knew didn’t worry a lot about weirdo strangers bothering us in an early 1960s version of Nashua, especially if we stayed clear of certain neighborhoods our parents liked to call “rough” or “not very nice” without further explanation. The safest of all adults – or so we believed, but for my money, rightfully so – were our friendly deliverymen, whether they toted milk, eggs, bread or …
More: continued here
