The paper boy is dead, or at least nearly so. Once every boy's dream first job, the task today is more often than not handed off to an anonymous adult.
I was a paper boy for several years, beginning in fifth grade and continuing all through junior high. I began with the Lincoln Journal and I experienced the gradual merging of the Journal and the Star. I used to walk the route every day with my dog, Jodi, the ten-pound black schnoodle I never had to put on a leash. On Sunday mornings my dad would drive around with me in our old Ford conversion van, and when we finished we would have breakfast at Hy-Vee with the hunters in their orange vests. I delivered papers in sun, rain, sleet, hail, and snow. Once it was so icy and windy that when I accidentally dropped a newspaper, I had to skate after it for two blocks as it slid down the street. I even delivered papers through a couple tornado warnings. My mom wasn't happy about that.
In a way it's a little sad that my kids won't at least have the chance to have such a cool first job. But then again, by the time my kids are old enough to want a job, all sorts of new opportunities will have opened up.
So long, paper boy.
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