Newspaper Boy (11)

One afternoon when I came home from school Mom greeted me, “Aren’t you the boy that always wanted a paper route?”

When had I ever said I wanted a paper route? I really didn’t have time. I had to practice my card tricks--I was going to be a magician.

But I didn’t want to disappoint Mom. Sonny, the kid who was giving up the route, would show me the ropes. At fourteen, he was two years older; Mom said he had other interests. What those were I didn’t know. Whoever invented the word “clueless” must have had me in mind.

Showing me the ropes only lasted two days; Sonny said if I could figure out what customers I had missed I would have the route in hand. Of course I didn’t have a clue. Sonny assured me I would be able to handle it. He jumped on his bike and flew off to pursue his “other interests”.

I did have the route pretty well memorized, but I wasn’t good at folding papers. I just threw them in my bicycle basket and tried to keep them from blowing away. Between chasing runaway papers and crashing my bike into people’s porches—I wasn’t made to ride a bike and throw a newspaper at the same time-- the route was getting longer and longer.

The very next afternoon it got dark early thanks to a thunderstorm; I was running even later. I was about to make my last few deliveries, when a car pulled up blinding me with its lights. It was Dad. “What in the crap are you doing out here at this time of night?” He didn’t wait for an answer—I was on my way home as fast as I could pedal.

When I got home, I heard Mom saying, “I don’t want that boy out at night riding his bike”. I heard Dad say, “He can give that paper route back to Sonny what’s-his- name”.

So it was decided my newspaper days were over. I didn’t know whether to be elated or sad. The paper route money would have come in handy for magic supplies, but there were a lot of things around the house that could be used as props.

The next evening I used some of those “props” as the folks had gone to The Store. I launched my career in magic by filling the dining room table with dishes. The idea was to pull the tablecloth (quickly) out from under the dishes. I practiced until I heard Dad and Mom pull in. It was show time; I gave the folks a demonstration.

The next morning we were still finding broken crockery.

“Maybe we should have let him kept his paper route,” Dad said.

“I liked it better when he played cowboys,” Mom said.

Cowboys! Great idea, Mom! I was twelve, but I was working my way back to six.