The Paper route.

 The Paper route. When I was 10, I was a fat capitalist pig. I had a paper route. The Globe and Mail.
http://www.theglobeandmail.com/
I would wake up at 430 am to 5am. My bike in the summer, my toboggan in the winter. None of my friends ever helped me deliver the papers. (I wonder why?)Although, they did help me Saturday mornings collecting the money. I was flush in those days. I had a higher net worth at 10 then at 53. Go figure. We would collect the money, figure how much I owed the Globe and Mail....and the rest was gravy baby. First order of business was to walk to Charlie’s Variety, there was no other choice. I would buy my assistant(s) whatever they wanted...pop, wax lips (we ate them), thrills gum (taste like soap) *note – refer to first swear word blog coming soon. *  The paper route was my ticket to freedom. Occasionally I would sleep in. Not a problem though. My Dad would wake me up, and if I was late he would drive me. He knew every single person on our street, and what they did for a living, and what time they went to work. We would go to Mr. Pavanal’s house first, as he went to work first…..and then all the way back to The Henderson’s as he was next to work, and so on. We had a system, we didn’t talk too much, and we were like machines, very systematic. My Dad never got paid for this service. I never thought about paying him. All this extra cash I had allowed me to live the life. Jeff Black and I would go golfing with all my riches. We would stand at the end of Meadow Wood rd and wait for the bus. .025 cents for the bus to Lakeview Golf and Country Club……we would arrive at the club at 530am, we had to, it was first come, first serve...you check in, pay your $2 for 18 holes and get your time. We loved it. French Fries and gravy for lunch, and the bus back home. What a life. Jeff died when I was 16, that my first experience with death. I didn't get it. His mom hugged me for what seemed like 30 minutes at the funeral, was more like seconds, it was very sad.
Next - Weekends.