There are celebration/commemoration days for just about everything.
Even the nearly extinct newspaper carriers have a celebrant day, Sept. 4.
I was a “paperboy.” In fact, I won a Eugene Pulliam Scholarship, thanks, in part, to my years (and my brother’s years) schlepping The Phoenix Gazette and The Arizona Republic.
We’d ride our bikes to the “station,” or drop-off point for bundles of newspapers awaiting home delivery. In our day, Hurley Trucking held the contract to transport the papers from the print shop to the station. Once our routes and territory got big enough, we had the station moved to our house.
Then we’d load our bikes with all the papers and deliver them to our subscribers’ door steps.
Once a week, we’d go door-to-door to collect the money for the paper, which we bought from the publisher at a discounted rate. It was our own little business.
Those days are long gone. Now it’s a car-delivered paper at the end of my driveway by a person I’ve never met and a pay-by-mail set-up.
Society has dictated those changes – but it cannot take away the memories of that first job for thousands across America — being a “paperboy.”