As a young teen, experiencing the need for more freedom, I began to crave my own hard earned cash, because it was a lifestyle free from asking for it, and that felt great. I was a busy working kid throughout my entire secondary school life, which was 7th to 12th grade. I worked for Peoples Drug store, Montgomery Wards department store, sold chocolate, oranges, grapefruit, Christmas trees, did music gigs, mowed lawns, chopped fire wood, shoveled snow, and slung the best news paper in town, The Washington Post".

Mr Johnson my route manager for the Washington Post, brought me one hundred or so tightly bundled papers each morning around 4 am. The top and bottom of the bundle were covered with a heavy leather-like template from the Post printing presses. I used to always look to see if I got an original template of a collector paper like "Nixon Approves Double Day Light Savings Time", "Watergate Was A Diversion", or something like that.  Mr Johnson always put those plates on the top of the bundle, to protect the papers from winter frost and snow, and summer dew and rain. If I wanted to have fresh crisp papers it would be best to meet him as soon as his truck pulled up.

On Thursdays, I would have to spend extra time inserting the "style section". On Sunday mornings came the heavy comic section which included various advertisements, magazines and every thing but a copy of "War And Peace". Each Sunday paper was a least three to four adult fingers thick, no exaggeration. One particular Sunday morning I received my first double carrying bag, looking for a more efficient way to deliver my papers. The new double bag allowed me to carry papers in the front and back, so I slipped the bag over my head on to my shoulders and began stuffing it with the Sunday Post.

After managing to stuff ten Sunday Post papers in each bag, I looked like a true beast of burden, a Llama, or an Oxen carrying a harvest load to market. It was a lot of weight! Still, I wanted to add another factor into the equation. Now here's where things started to go south for me. I actually manged to mount my bicycle and was doing just fine, till one of my tires slipped on the morning dew, and down I went for the count. After accessing the damage, I determined I wasn't hurt, and tried to get up, but the load was much to heavy. One, two, three times I tried to break the hold of my stationary oppressor, but remained a boy pinned to the ground, like a thief from the movie "The Treasure Of Sierra Madre"; left in the dessert to rot in the broiling sun, or in my case, the morning dew and slug trails.

The papers were so heavy on my chest, I could barely scream for help, and it was early on Sunday morning to add and extra dollop of distress. I just lay there for a while hoping maybe someone would come to my rescue, but no one came. Then it dawned on me, why don't I start taking the papers out of the bag, and maybe I'll be able to lift the load. Although the papers were tightly packed and awkwardly twisted, that solved the problem. I decided the bike wasn't helping efficiency, so I left the twisted wreck and drove on.

    Time passed, I gained strength, and the once stiff canvas bag seemed to mold to my papers and body like a comfortable leather glove. The paper route was a lot more fun, and a serious bit of freedom for me. I loved the solitude of the early morning, and I began to get comfortable with chatting myself up as I worked. I became my own best friend, and looked forward to meeting myself every morning. The solitude also tested my resolve for things that went bump in the shadows of the early morning. I had to confront "the shadows", those who would disturb my solitude, and seek to plague me for years.

On Saturday mornings after my route was finished, I liked to take a stroll up School Street to Richmond Hwy, for a dozen delicious "Krispy Kreme" donuts to share with my family. "Krispy Kremes" was a fully automated donut factory, and one of the main attractions was watching the whole donut making process from the front window. The donuts went from mix to final product right before your eyes. Entranced, I would watch the Krispy Kreme army of donuts float on top of the hot oil, waiting for them to be flipped, so they could embark on their various glazing, powdering, coating and filling assignments. Some would move up ramps to get dusted with coconut and others advanced to be laden with chocolate sprinkles or nuts. Whatever donut you desired after the show, was guaranteed to be hot, fresh and tasty every time. Leak the news that the Krispy Kremes have arrived, and people from everywhere dusty cubicle, classroom, or office would come running for their morning donut fix. It wasn't unusual to see adults bring copious amounts of "Krispy Kreme" donuts to school functions, boy scouts meetings, church gatherings, and even military formations. Everybody...just loved em.

Weekdays after my route was finished would sometimes be a race to catch the bus to school, but I made it most of the time, and that gained me no small amount of respect from those students I passed on their way to the bus stop.