Never had a paper route when I was a kid...but I have one now.
Back then:
Kids didn’t wear helmets, nobody wore helmets. Kids rode bikes. They rode bikes for hours, days even, unsupervised. Kids walked or rode to school, alone. They rode bikes everywhere, alone. Kids could cover a lot of ground on bikes, cover the neighborhood, back alleys, trails, shortcuts. Kids had jobs. Kids threw papers at your door, hard.
Dogs ran free, roamed the neighborhood, no leash, no fence no problem. They shit where they wanted to shit and nobody picked it up, that’s the way it was, stepping in it was part of life. Getting chased by big scary dogs was part of riding a bike, outrunning Chester the mean Irish Setter was a rite of passage. There wasn’t an ordinance governing adrenaline rushes, dares, thrills, bloody knees and hard falls.
And now:
Some kids wear helmets and some don’t. Some cops write $103 tickets for not wearing a helmet. It’s not for your safety, it’s not a personal choice, it’s the law…(this is another topic) Anyway, I got myself a paper route. I throw papers around, very important legal papers. And there are many times when I would love to roll ’em up, rubber band ’em and throw ’em against your door, Hard. I ride around in short pants with grubby hands and grease under my fingernails. Smudges on my face and a big satchel on my back, eating peanut butter sandwiches and bite size candy bars from large law firms. I roll around talking to myself and talking into a radio sometimes. My neighborhood really isn’t that big. Sometimes it feels like it is, but it really isn’t. Back alleys, trails, shortcuts.
Now dogs need leashes, collars, licenses, doggie day cares, pet sitters, dog walkers, dog bakeries, canine coffee shops, mobile groomers and plenty of poop bags. They still shit when they need to, but the people “need” to pick it up.
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