"The Paper Route"

One fateful day in seventh grade marked a major turning point in my life. I was walking home from school (as I did everyday) and as I approached our house, I spotted something on the front porch. Something bright, shiny, and new...It was clearly a brand new bicycle. Why was it there? Who did it belong to?  Could it possibly be mine?

I couldn't get in the house fast enough. Hoping...Knowing better, but still hoping...

"Mom! What's that on the front porch?"
"That's a new bike!"
"Whose bike is it?"
"It's your bike!"
"My bike?"
"Yes, your bike!"
"Thanks mom!"
"You are welcome!"
"I got you something else too..."
"What else?"
"I got you a paper route!"
"What?"
"You start on Saturday morning!"
"Huh?"
"Don't ever ask me for another fucking penny!"

That was the day I wrote my mother off. Any response by me would have led to something very severe. Things falling under the category of “any response” would include: arguing, asking why, crying, saying I hate you, or giving her a dirty look…..anything at all.

Looking back on it now, I never really got much from her before that day. I guess it falls under the “you can’t lose what you never had” category.

The paper route was one of the best things that ever happened to me. While my mom never did give me another penny, it made me even more self reliant than I already was. The paper route was seven days a week. Back in those days you delivered the paper by bicycle. At the end of the month you had to go out and do “collections.” You knocked on the door of every house you delivered to and asked to be paid in cash. After my first month was over I cleared a little less than 40 dollars. Seriously, I was in seventh grade, and I’d never had that much money in my life. I liked it. So I started looking for other jobs as well. Sweeping and cleaning at a local bar. Doing dirty work at a nearby hamburger place, doing odd jobs at the local cleaners. I was too young to get a work permit, so I always told them up front that I’d like to work for cash. When I was old enough, I got a job at McDonald’s and other places. I couldn’t care less about going to school and ditched all the time. But I never missed work.

For the first time in my life I was able to wear decent clothes. I was able to actually do things with other kids that required money. Before that, the only way I could do something simple, like go to movies was to go through trash cans to find soda bottles to redeem. In those days, you could take them right back to the store and turn them in for money. I think it was usually 2 or 3 cents per bottle.

Please don’t get me wrong. My life wasn’t turned completely around. I was still screwed up emotionally and did some bad and crazy things. But I always worked. The morning of the day I turned 16, a family friend took me to get my driver’s license. Later that same day, I bought a car. You’d think that my mom would be happy, or maybe even a bit proud. Nope! She was angry with me.

“What were you thinking?"
"Do you have insurance?”
“You aren’t driving that piece of shit until you get insurance!”

Growing up with my mom taught me a thing or two. What was my response to what she said about the insurance? Right, I didn’t say a single word. I just walked out of the house, got in the car and drove away. Not forever, but for a few days. When I did return, she didn’t say anything about it. I got my insurance soon after that, but it was on my timetable not hers. At this point in time, I wasn’t worried about her beating me, or screaming at me, as those things had no longer had any effect. But still, I can’t express how much I hated that woman. Well, I guess I can. And I soon will.