My Paper Route

It was another early Sunday morning in Sturbridge, MA, and we were up again before the sun. As a 12-year-old, I couldn't understand why my brother and I had to get up so early on Sunday and deliver these dumb newspapers. I also struggled to understand how that day of the week could produce so much EXTRA news that the Sunday paper would barely fit into the little plastic bags we had to fold and stuff them into. It simply made no sense, but a job was a job, and at age 12, a paper route was a fine way to make a living. 

I remember many Sundays, my father, after forcing us out of bed, would decide to drive us around in the back of the old Dodge Aspen station wagon instead of us riding our bikes. (I can only imagine how silly I must have looked at 4 ft 5, 100 pounds, carrying my newspaper bag that I could barely keep off the ground). These mornings were always special to me. First, it was awesome that my Dad would get up and help with our responsibility and drive us when he didn't have to. (In hindsight, it was probably just to keep my brother and me from killing each other). Second, it was on these dark, slow, quiet trips around the neighborhood that he would take time to teach us things. You know, things that can only be taught when a boy's guard is down and time seems to just hover silently in the quiet moments of sharing an activity. Things like: "never kiss and tell," and "don't cheat, lie, or steal," and "pay yourself first"—essentials for a boy at 12 or 50.

It's funny to me how those simple lessons from a father are remembered as clearly as the moments in which they were shared. It could be the morning where the day's distractions have not yet kicked in, it could be the fact that we were all a little tired, had our guard down, and were open for quiet conversation, or it could be the words of a loving father to an admiring son. Perhaps all three. 

I read this morning the following words from a loving father:

This reminded me of the advice from my father on our paper route. These days I am especially drawn to "search for peace, and work to maintain it." There are so many opportunities to do the opposite. 

Find quiet moments to share with the ones you love today. Heck, in the right moments, they may even be listening. Get up every day and bring value to your community, even if you're only 12, save your money, don't kiss and tell, never cheat, lie or steal, and search for peace and work hard to maintain it.