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Monday, April 27. 2009
Independence
It’s 5 a.m., do you know where your children are? Forty years ago I was out running the streets at this time of the morning, delivering the Milwaukee Sentinel. Parents don’t let their children to that anymore. Too many bad people, too many sad results. And it’s really too bad because it’s a way for kids to make some money and begin the process of becoming independent.Of course, there were always the parents who drove their kids on the paper routes; we used to ridicule them. In the winter we were incredibly jealous because at 5 a.m. in Milwaukee WI, there could be two feet of fresh snow on the ground and the temperature could be hovering around zero. My dad would NEVER get out of bed to drive Rick and I around for our routes.
When I broke my finger and had my left arm in a cast, my sister Cheryl got up and drove me every morning. Thanks Cheryl!
Every morning awake by four, out the door and delivering papers before five. Your route had to be finished by six since most people were up and about and wanted their paper to read as they sat on the crapper for their morning constitution. Woe is on you if the paper was delivered after six.
Nowadays the paper is delivered by adults and screw you if you want it delivered before six. On the other hand, the adults are delivering to several hundred customers, whereas when we kids did it, few of us ever had more than 80 customers. I usually hovered around 70.
Stack them into “paper bags,” these big sacks made from tarp material in bright reflective yellow, sling them over the back of my bicycle and off I’d go, pedaling to the route.
My first route began 12 blocks from home at 51st Street, just east of my brother Rick’s route. It went as far north as W. Jerelyn Pl. and as far south as Forest Home Blvd. The eastern border was 45th St as I recall and it seemed like it was miles and miles. Looking at it on Google Maps, it doesn’t appear to be that big.
When Rick retired from the newspaper delivery racket, I took his route, it being closer to home and had all the “goodies.” This is where my sisters will roll their eyes. The “goodies” included the Kohl’s grocery store, which had, for many years, their morning bakery waiting patiently outside in big, enclosed racks. The doors weren’t locked on these cabinets so we would help ourselves to doughnuts.
Then there were the more prurient goodies. You’d be surprised at how many people walk around the bedrooms and bathrooms with the window shades and curtains wide open at that hour of the morning. As a 13-year old boy, dealing with the pleasures (and horrors) of puberty, seeing young women in various stages of undress was intoxicating!
That was the main reason to get the routes done as quickly as possible. In the beginning, Rick would wait until my route was finished and I’d meet him on Stack Dr. and we would then take “the tour.” Older brothers, especially if they are close in age, are a great source of information and knowledge, especially in matters not approved by the Church!
Too bad we didn’t have digital cameras back in those days. Obviously, I haven’t outlived the thrills of that voyeuristic nature.
Lest you think this was all just two boys peeping through windows, often enough when we went to collect from our customers in the evening we would be met by women wearing nothing but sheer lingerie. One cold December night I was invited in and the woman, who was in her 30’s, gave me her personal tour. I was 15 at the time, already sporting some face hair and well into a life of skullduggery. The respite from the cold was a welcome relief.Memories, we think about our youth when we reach a certain age, often transfixed by some horrors, but often enough reveling in the little pleasures and victories. Today’s teens don’t have the luxury of delivering newspapers at 5 a.m. every morning. Instead, they barely get out of bed for school and their days are taken up with clandestine meetings on the Internets and video games like Guitar Hero and Grand Theft Auto.
You don’t have to wonder very long to figure out whom has had more life experiences before the age of 18. Well, maybe the experience is just different. Kids still hang out and talk about the hip stuff of the day as we did, but I can’t help but conclude teens are missing out on something these days without the opportunity to deliver the paper at 5 a.m. At the age of 13, being out alone in the morning, the birds chirping in a new day, it was the first time I felt anything like independence from my parents. For the 90 minutes to two hours I was away from home, I was my own man. That’s a big deal to a 13-year old.
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