Milkmen are a dying breed," says North Battleford's milkman Brad McLeod.
There are only a few home delivery routes left across Canada. The milk truck, collectively recognized as the icon of simpler, happier times, has become a sight rarely seen.
"A lot of people in North Battleford don't even know there's such a thing as home delivery," says McLeod.
He's had to diversify to keep up with the times, he says, including taking on water delivery. But he still delivers milk, other dairy staples and bread bright and early each morning.
"I'm up at four in the morning and I drop everything that you want off at your doorstep, and you open up the door in the morning and there it is."
McLeod knows how home delivery can impact a family's daily life. Before he became the milkman himself, he and his wife counted on home delivery to make raising two young children easier.
"I can honestly say I grew up with it," he says. "My wife and I had it before I even bought the route."
It was in 2000 that McLeod, who has lived all his life in North Battleford, bought the home delivery route.
"This will be the last job," he says. "I will retire in the milk truck."
Previously, McLeod worked for Maple Leaf Foods (now closed), was a custodian at North Battleford Comprehensive High School, did auto body work and, for many years, worked at Hunters Sports (destroyed by fire in 1992).
When the opportunity to buy the milk route came up, he decided it was the right fit for him.
"I just always wanted something where I knew exactly what I was doing each day and kind of set my own schedule."
He likes being his own boss.
"If I need a day off or have to leave an hour or two early I can do it, or if I have to run home during the day, I have some flexibility."
There's also a certain cache´ that comes with being the milkman.
"It's also a little bit flattering," he says. "It's a good way of life, because you know many people and many people know you."
It's been 15 years, but he still seems surprised at the attention he and his milk truck get.
"The milk truck still excites people for some reason," he says. "I see people in their vehicle and they are looking and sometimes they are smiling."
He laughs, "I don't know how many times I get, 'I waved at you today, but you didn't wave back.'"
He doesn't see all the waves. He's busy driving.
He especially enjoys the reaction of children to the milk truck.
"Kids go crazy over the milk truck. I stop and I hand out chocolate milk to the city workers or kids or whatever, and sometimes they are just over the top that they are getting a chocolate milk from the milkman."
He says, "It's fun doing that stuff and it's just a good way of life."
He is now, as the current milkman, on the receiving end of the same appreciation he had for home milk delivery before getting behind the wheel himself.
"Actually I had one customer, she lived on 96th Street, she used to call me her personal servant," he laughs.
She ordered a variety of dairy products at different times, he says.
"I saved her from going out to the store, I guess, so she labelled me her personal servant."
Older residents find home delivery a boon.
"It’s kind of flattering when I go to the high-rise and the people there will tell me, 'We don't know what we'd do without you,'" he says. "It's nice to hear. It's nice in any way of life, in any walk of life, to get a compliment. It doesn't matter if you are a milkman or a mechanic, compliments are nice, and I get a lot of them. I'm sure the old milkman who carried the milk, the glass jars, he probably got a lot of compliments, too."
With more stores and more choices in the marketplace, home milk delivery may be on the decline, but there are still people signing up.
"It depends on the individual," says McLeod. "Whenever I do go out canvassing I always get customers."
Is it more difficult to find new customers?
"You might have to ask five people to get one yes, instead of two or three in the old days," says McLeod, "… but on the other hand, as life goes on, life is busier, so people a lot of times don't have time to go pick up a jug of milk or a pound of butter after work. They want to go home."
He says there are many people who don't want the lineups in the store, they don't want to run out of milk at 10 p.m. and have to run down to the store and get it.
"The concept is nice. Everything is waiting for you at the door when you get up in the morning."
McLeod, 55, expects he'll be on the milk run until he's 65.
"I think it'll be here for a while and hopefully I can maybe sell the route when I decide to retire … my wife says I've got 10 years," he laughs.
He hopes someone will want to carry on, but it's possible, he says, that the route may become defunct when he retires. He fears most people think it would be a hard life.
"I would, too, if I knew somebody had to get up at four in the morning, but it's a piece of cake. I probably get more sleep than anyone else because I go to bed at nine o'clock or eight thirty," laughs McLeod. "It's a good life, you just drive around, drink Tim Hortons, listen to the radio all day and talk to people."
He's not put off by the winter weather, either.
"In the winter I tell people I'm warmer than they are. I dress for it. I've got heaters galore in the truck."
He's happy with his lot.
"It's a wholesome way of life, it's a healthy way of life," he explains. "I get sun, I get exercise, I get the gift of gab, I get smiles. One thing about a milk man, you get many, many more smiles than you do frowns, so that's a pretty positive thing. That’s uplifting to get compliments and smiles."
He finds himself living a positive life because of his line of work.
"A lot of people live in negativity," says McLeod. "They complain about their job or complain about the person they work with or whatever, but to be honest, my job is pretty positive. I guess the only thing is I have to get up at four in the morning, and that can be a positive thing, too."
McLeod also finds it positive to do what he can for his community.
He delivers to the food bank for a cut rate — “they get their milk for a little cheaper" — and donates when they have functions.
He's also donated to numerous silent auctions.
"People phone and ask if I want to give something, and I do. I usually give ice cream."
Over the years there have been a number of causes he's supported.
"I don't refuse," he says. "It's nice to give."
He annually supports the Battlefords Union Hospital Foundation's Festival of Trees.
"They used to want chocolate milk, now it's eggnog. It's nice to give back to the community. I’ve been here forever, I can give back a little bit."
When he's not working, he and his wife Karen have a "pretty simple but busy life."
He says he's not into sports, although he and his wife like to downhill ski in the winter. They like to visit with family, go to the movies or go out for meals.
"I enjoy myself on the weekend," he says. "I get weekends off and part of Wednesday.
Karen is a teacher.
"Instead of teaching kids, now she's teaching teachers," he says.
She works as a consultant with Treaty 6 Education Council.
They have two children, Sean, 21, and Sarah, 23.
Sean is an apprentice electrician with Wangler Electric out of Wilkie and Sarah teaches full time at McKitrick School in North Battleford.
"It's very nice to have them here," says McLeod.
There are no grandchildren on the immediate horizon.
"Not that we know of," he laughs.
His kids have grown up in the milk business. When they were little, he used to pick them and the neighbours' kids up at school in the milk truck.
"That's an experience a lot of kids don't get, and they'll never forget it," he says.
On his dash sits a little piece of Lego from when his son was in Grade 1. He used to play with his Lego in the van coming home from school and it must have got lost somewhere in some nook or cranny.
"I found it one day after I stopped driving them to school … that's still sitting on my dash, that's my mascot."
He has mementos from Sarah as well.
"Sarah used to write me all sorts of things, draw me cows, or write me nice little notes and draw pictures, and I still have those little pictures and notes she did stuck up on my bulletin board from when she was a little wee kid. There’s more to the inside of that milk truck than you can see on the outside," he laughs.
His kids are on the outside of the van, too. A photo taken when they were much younger, enjoying a glass of milk, complete with milk moustaches, is prominent on the side panel. He proudly points them out.
As livings go, McLeod has no complaints, but he is thankful his wife has a good career.
"It's been good," he says. "My kids have always been full and always had a good roof over their head and always been warm, and I can still go out and buy a steak whenever I want. I tell people I'll never get rich – but I buy lottery tickets, so maybe I will."
He laughs, "Life is built on dreams, even though 99 per cent of it is never going to happen. I can dream, it makes me happy!"
