The Joy of the Daily Newspaper

If our recent snowfalls had come at the end of March or the beginning of April, we probably wouldn’t have enjoyed the unusual weather of last weekend.  But several inches of snow this close to the Holidays brings back snow memories for those of us who are older. 

I remember trudging through knee-high snow when, as a boy, I had an afternoon paper route.  In the town I grew up in, the expectation was for paperboys and papergirls to fold the paper and place it inside the screen door to keep the paper from getting wet.

Friday was the afternoon that paper carriers in my town dreaded the most.  On Fridays, we had to ring the doorbells and let the residents know what their bill was for the week.  That often meant making change for residents, which involved taking gloves off and digging into change containers.  It was also a time when a resident might say, “Didn’t I pay you last week?”  to which we would answer “Yes, ma’am (or sir), I collect money every week.” 

Is it my imagination that the snows and frigid weather in my past always hit on Fridays, the afternoon when a forty-minute after-school job could take up to two hours?  And what was worse than finishing the route and finding one paper still in the shoulder bag?  That would mean retracing my steps to find the customer whom I had missed. 

Of course, there were tradeoffs.  Some of my customers became friends who expressed interest in what I wanted to do when I grew up. These customers were also the ones who always gave me a small gift at Christmastime.  The usual gift was a dollar, which bought a lot more back in the late fifties and early sixties than now.  But one customer—I will always remember her yappy miniature dog going for my ankles—would give me a paper wallet with eight Life Saver rolls neatly stacked inside.  Another customer always handed me a crisp two-dollar bill.  I was rich. 

A lot has changed in the news business since I was a paperboy.  A lot of people read their news online, so they might not remember a time when a papergirl or boy was part of the experience.  And most of us pay by credit card online. 

But it pleases me to hear my Daily Journal hitting the porch, delivered not by an online service but by a real person.   That’s true especially when the deliverer has fought the elements to bring my paper. 

Another thing that hasn’t changed is the opportunity for customers to show  appreciation by tipping the deliverer.  Some of us have received a small Holiday greeting card recently from our deliverer with her or his address listed at the bottom.  That’s a subtle reminder to say “thank you.”  Over the past year, haven’t all of us who read the Daily Journal opened the paper to read a story or column that shared something that we wouldn’t have known otherwise?