Congratulations on coming full circle as a paperboy, now writer! I, too, helped deliver The Florida Today as a teen with one of my mom's friends. I remember the early mornings, the stuffing the papers into the plastic coverings, the tossing onto porches. Two-story apartments were the most challenging. I now live in a small town that still has its own paper, The Sanford Herald. I'm glad newspapers still exist. It's a link to our past and a tangible connection to the present. Who knows what the future holds for the morning paper?
It’s icy in north Texas this morning. I called my 92-year old father to tell him NOT to go out to get his newspaper today. It’s not worth it! He patiently told me that he was currently enjoying his paper and coffee because his newspaper boy had set it thoughtfully on his doorstep… like he always does. God bless that young man!
Today’s topic is a major Memory Lane for me. I wish my dear husband was here to read it. As a circulation district manager for our local newspaper, I often helped him with “down routes” which we often did together.
You described the delivery process to a tea, from the bundles to the driveways. He had “guns” for arms in his softball days, so on a motor route, he could land the paper in the driveway every time. Including on the opposite side of the street, by bending his arm over the top of the car or truck, and flinging the paper across. No need to drive down both sides of the street.
Extra papers were saved for household uses, like cleaning windows, mirrors, grills, ovens, and stainless steel sinks. Also good for removing smelly, musky odors, plus cobwebs.
This widow greatly misses those times together. What I wouldn’t give for even one more route💔
My husband threw a paper route in Vegas. We had a Jack Russell who ADORED the process! And when my husband missed a house Bingo would get his attention and show him where to go! Good memories.
There was a dog on one of our rural routes, whose wheelchair bound owner, trained him to go out to the mailbox at the end of the lane, and fetch his paper.
We would always bag it, rain or shine, and leave the opening of the bag hanging out of the mailbox so the dog could jump up and grab it! What a great trick🐾🐾
Back in the day my neighbor taught his dog to go out and bring back the newspaper. The only problem was he went and got everybody's newspaper. Since it was a dead-end street, it wasn't hard to return the papers.
Once again, thank you Sean. Your column is the first thing I read when I get up at 4:00 am each morning. Your humility and willingness to serve others is inspirational. Blessings sir.
Beautiful writing. Once, I was probably ten, a neighborhood boy asked if I would take his route while his family went on vacation. I don’t remember how I got the papers, and I don’t remember how they were prepared (Birmingham News, btw). I do remember walking the neighborhood with my red Radio Flyer (now “Classic”) wagon - the bumps in the sidewalk where sections had been pushed up and cracked by tree roots - the sense of the wagon getting lighter and easier to pull as I neared my house and the end of morning. That week allowed me to have great appreciation for those people doing that work, and I maintained my paper subscription for as long as I could, and I realized then, I really wanted to do something else with my life.
Everything I needed to learn in life to be a responsible and successful human being I learned from being a "Paperboy." That's what we were called because, at the time, there were no "Papergirls."
I have that newsprint smell forever etched in my memory . . . and my nostrils - because I delivered 130 newspapers a day in 6th and 7th grade. The newspaper was the Lake City Reporter, a small-town newspaper in north Florida.
In those days, newspapers were only delivered on bicycles. As Sean described, newspapers were hand-rolled and tucked into plastic sleeves and placed between the handlebars and in saddle bags strapped across my "banana seat" on my bike. Every kid had a banana seat bicycle because that's the way God intended for bikes to be built - not these hard-as-rock tiny triangles that require lycra diapers in order not to have an instant hemorrhoid.
All paperboys dreaded Wednesdays because that is when the newspapers were fatter due to all the coupon inserts . . . which translated into heavier papers and slower rolling times. However, in the "prep room," where each paperboy rolled their papers, all of the critical life issues were discussed and debated . . . and personal gossip was distributed. It's where we made life-long friends with our fellow entrepreneurs . . . even though no one had ever heard that word and much less could even guess how to spell it.
Here is what I learned: I learned personal responsibility, the importance of showing up even if I didn't want to or was sick, customer service - where to put newspapers where customers wanted them - not randomly as a convenience to you, sales - as we both delivered papers and knocked on doors to suggest to a homeowner that their life would be better if they read the newspaper (hmmm?) and the more we sold, the larger my route grew the more income I earned (a primer in capitalism long before Junior Achievement existed), book-keeping as the way the system worked is that the newspaper company sold you the newspapers and it was up to you to collect what customers owned you - each month, in person.
You also learned there were some people, that no matter how much you provided them good service and a friendly smile, there is a documented "jerk factor" (it's +/- 3% . . . my experience was that it was a little higher in the more expensive neighborhoods as I delivered across the economic spectrum).
And then there were the aggressive dogs that chased you (Clorox in a squirt gun usually took care of that problem), hot weather, cold weather, wet weather, flat tires . . . etc. And, I learned independence as I didn't have anyone to back me up - and the personal pride that comes from accomplishing a job well done.
Oh, and if the Department of Labor or OSHA were to have visited, they would have shut this practice down within minutes, as just about every aspect of the job was a "safety violation!" We call them "Child Labor Violations" today.
Thank you, Sean, for taking me back to my first "University of Life," which was disguised as the go-to job for an early adolescent. As I close my eyes to remember, I still smell that magical ink smell.
Your mama and her two kids are to be admired for the hard work. I love that you fulfilled your wish to become a writer. What a joy to read you, whether in print or digital.
I miss newspapers. As a youngster from the time I learned to read I looked forward to the daily newspaper especially the Sunday paper. I would spend the whole afternoon reading the paper from cover to cover ... even the want ads. The travel section took me to places I dreamed of seeing and the wedding descriptions made me dream of wedding dresses and honeymoon trips. I loved the actual news and the editorials and everything in between. I miss newspapers!
Oh, what memories. I did the same thing with my kids. Those plastic sleeves that never wanted to cooperate when the paper was so thick. Rubber bands were even used. There was a morning and evening edition. The early morning deliveries and really dirty hands from the newsprint. Throwing the paper in the rain & never knowing where it was going to land. Laying it out to dry & hoping the wet pages didn't tear. Kids learned to read from those newspapers. We need the comic strips back to remind us it's okay to laugh. Many people miss receiving the daily papers & all the sales ads before going to multiple grocery stores to save a few cents. Thanks for the memories.
I had a special big front basket on my bike. I broke a milk bottle once, which the milk man had placed right in the spot where I throw the paper. once the wind caught one which landed on the roof. I climbed on the roof. It's dark at 6AM. No one saw me. I delivered AM,PM, and I would sell 50 final edition papers on the street corner. I made 1 cent each. When I was nine, I worked with migrant workers in the fields. 10 cents an hr. Glad to have the job. I bought my first car for $15.00. Yes, I was 9 yrs old.
I got a call from the radio station in Malone, NY. Yes, I would like to advertise and sponsor Paul Harvey. Who's Paul Harvey the gal replied?
Yep, Sean, I knew about that smell and feel when I was a young kid from my mother who drove my brother around his route to throw newspapers. And I've probably told you this before: my brother actually became a write later in life for the newspaper he threw when he was a kid! Not too shabby, huh...
And now, you know the rest of the story…
Good Day! <- in my best Paul Harvey
So right Susiebelle so right. 😁❤️
"Good day!"
Came here to say this! HA!
I used to open the newspaper to Lewis Grizzard’s column first. Now I open my email to Sean of the South. Keep writing!
Me and you both, Jenny. Lewis was a treasure. He was a dawg (UGA) but I loved him (ima gator) Now I love Sean.
My Daddy loved Lewis Grizzard and would bring his stories. So blessed to have these writers.
Right there with you! We’ve had a great columnist journey!
Congratulations on coming full circle as a paperboy, now writer! I, too, helped deliver The Florida Today as a teen with one of my mom's friends. I remember the early mornings, the stuffing the papers into the plastic coverings, the tossing onto porches. Two-story apartments were the most challenging. I now live in a small town that still has its own paper, The Sanford Herald. I'm glad newspapers still exist. It's a link to our past and a tangible connection to the present. Who knows what the future holds for the morning paper?
It’s icy in north Texas this morning. I called my 92-year old father to tell him NOT to go out to get his newspaper today. It’s not worth it! He patiently told me that he was currently enjoying his paper and coffee because his newspaper boy had set it thoughtfully on his doorstep… like he always does. God bless that young man!
Now there's a good boy!
Today’s topic is a major Memory Lane for me. I wish my dear husband was here to read it. As a circulation district manager for our local newspaper, I often helped him with “down routes” which we often did together.
You described the delivery process to a tea, from the bundles to the driveways. He had “guns” for arms in his softball days, so on a motor route, he could land the paper in the driveway every time. Including on the opposite side of the street, by bending his arm over the top of the car or truck, and flinging the paper across. No need to drive down both sides of the street.
Extra papers were saved for household uses, like cleaning windows, mirrors, grills, ovens, and stainless steel sinks. Also good for removing smelly, musky odors, plus cobwebs.
This widow greatly misses those times together. What I wouldn’t give for even one more route💔
My husband threw a paper route in Vegas. We had a Jack Russell who ADORED the process! And when my husband missed a house Bingo would get his attention and show him where to go! Good memories.
🐶🗞️
Bingo was your Good Luck charm☘️💚🍀
There was a dog on one of our rural routes, whose wheelchair bound owner, trained him to go out to the mailbox at the end of the lane, and fetch his paper.
We would always bag it, rain or shine, and leave the opening of the bag hanging out of the mailbox so the dog could jump up and grab it! What a great trick🐾🐾
Back in the day my neighbor taught his dog to go out and bring back the newspaper. The only problem was he went and got everybody's newspaper. Since it was a dead-end street, it wasn't hard to return the papers.
My next dog is now going to be named “Bingo!”
Once again, thank you Sean. Your column is the first thing I read when I get up at 4:00 am each morning. Your humility and willingness to serve others is inspirational. Blessings sir.
Beautiful writing. Once, I was probably ten, a neighborhood boy asked if I would take his route while his family went on vacation. I don’t remember how I got the papers, and I don’t remember how they were prepared (Birmingham News, btw). I do remember walking the neighborhood with my red Radio Flyer (now “Classic”) wagon - the bumps in the sidewalk where sections had been pushed up and cracked by tree roots - the sense of the wagon getting lighter and easier to pull as I neared my house and the end of morning. That week allowed me to have great appreciation for those people doing that work, and I maintained my paper subscription for as long as I could, and I realized then, I really wanted to do something else with my life.
First, my daily devotionals. Second, Sean of The South. My morning routine that sets the tone for the rest of the day.
Same for me, except flip the order. I hope He understands✝️
Everything I needed to learn in life to be a responsible and successful human being I learned from being a "Paperboy." That's what we were called because, at the time, there were no "Papergirls."
I have that newsprint smell forever etched in my memory . . . and my nostrils - because I delivered 130 newspapers a day in 6th and 7th grade. The newspaper was the Lake City Reporter, a small-town newspaper in north Florida.
In those days, newspapers were only delivered on bicycles. As Sean described, newspapers were hand-rolled and tucked into plastic sleeves and placed between the handlebars and in saddle bags strapped across my "banana seat" on my bike. Every kid had a banana seat bicycle because that's the way God intended for bikes to be built - not these hard-as-rock tiny triangles that require lycra diapers in order not to have an instant hemorrhoid.
All paperboys dreaded Wednesdays because that is when the newspapers were fatter due to all the coupon inserts . . . which translated into heavier papers and slower rolling times. However, in the "prep room," where each paperboy rolled their papers, all of the critical life issues were discussed and debated . . . and personal gossip was distributed. It's where we made life-long friends with our fellow entrepreneurs . . . even though no one had ever heard that word and much less could even guess how to spell it.
Here is what I learned: I learned personal responsibility, the importance of showing up even if I didn't want to or was sick, customer service - where to put newspapers where customers wanted them - not randomly as a convenience to you, sales - as we both delivered papers and knocked on doors to suggest to a homeowner that their life would be better if they read the newspaper (hmmm?) and the more we sold, the larger my route grew the more income I earned (a primer in capitalism long before Junior Achievement existed), book-keeping as the way the system worked is that the newspaper company sold you the newspapers and it was up to you to collect what customers owned you - each month, in person.
You also learned there were some people, that no matter how much you provided them good service and a friendly smile, there is a documented "jerk factor" (it's +/- 3% . . . my experience was that it was a little higher in the more expensive neighborhoods as I delivered across the economic spectrum).
And then there were the aggressive dogs that chased you (Clorox in a squirt gun usually took care of that problem), hot weather, cold weather, wet weather, flat tires . . . etc. And, I learned independence as I didn't have anyone to back me up - and the personal pride that comes from accomplishing a job well done.
Oh, and if the Department of Labor or OSHA were to have visited, they would have shut this practice down within minutes, as just about every aspect of the job was a "safety violation!" We call them "Child Labor Violations" today.
Thank you, Sean, for taking me back to my first "University of Life," which was disguised as the go-to job for an early adolescent. As I close my eyes to remember, I still smell that magical ink smell.
Woody, did you know the Leaches? Mr. Leach drove a tow truck. I read about his daughter. She died. So tragic.
Ah yes, ad inserts. Ugh.
Your mama and her two kids are to be admired for the hard work. I love that you fulfilled your wish to become a writer. What a joy to read you, whether in print or digital.
Keep doing what you're doing, Sean.
Many a paperboy grew up to be a rich man. Perhaps not in dollars but with integrity and grit.
I miss newspapers. As a youngster from the time I learned to read I looked forward to the daily newspaper especially the Sunday paper. I would spend the whole afternoon reading the paper from cover to cover ... even the want ads. The travel section took me to places I dreamed of seeing and the wedding descriptions made me dream of wedding dresses and honeymoon trips. I loved the actual news and the editorials and everything in between. I miss newspapers!
Oh, what memories. I did the same thing with my kids. Those plastic sleeves that never wanted to cooperate when the paper was so thick. Rubber bands were even used. There was a morning and evening edition. The early morning deliveries and really dirty hands from the newsprint. Throwing the paper in the rain & never knowing where it was going to land. Laying it out to dry & hoping the wet pages didn't tear. Kids learned to read from those newspapers. We need the comic strips back to remind us it's okay to laugh. Many people miss receiving the daily papers & all the sales ads before going to multiple grocery stores to save a few cents. Thanks for the memories.
I had a special big front basket on my bike. I broke a milk bottle once, which the milk man had placed right in the spot where I throw the paper. once the wind caught one which landed on the roof. I climbed on the roof. It's dark at 6AM. No one saw me. I delivered AM,PM, and I would sell 50 final edition papers on the street corner. I made 1 cent each. When I was nine, I worked with migrant workers in the fields. 10 cents an hr. Glad to have the job. I bought my first car for $15.00. Yes, I was 9 yrs old.
I got a call from the radio station in Malone, NY. Yes, I would like to advertise and sponsor Paul Harvey. Who's Paul Harvey the gal replied?
I delivered the Laurel Leader Call in Collins MS and won a bowling ball 👏 🙌 👌 for my work 😀 👍.
Sweet memories
Yep, Sean, I knew about that smell and feel when I was a young kid from my mother who drove my brother around his route to throw newspapers. And I've probably told you this before: my brother actually became a write later in life for the newspaper he threw when he was a kid! Not too shabby, huh...