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Show As the time of deliverance draws nigh Cesfl 1c vie! By JANIS STUART At a bleak 5:00 a.m., I was not able to send my son into the dark; rainy morning, with a pack that he could barely lift My o'verprotective motherly instincts got the best of , me and off we went in the car. As we searched through the early dawn light for addresses that were in no apparent order, we were honked at; screamed at and given ' some dirty looks that seethed louder' than the honking and screaming. Undaunted by all of this, my son then went tothe neighbor to borrow a wagon for the next weekend. Great I was going to be able to sleep in on Sunday. As the weekend neared, we both felt prepared. I tried very hard to let him - do - his job -without '''mom interference.' Sunday morning I pulled the covers and a pillow over my head to drown out the prepar-ing-to-deliver noises. Although, the front door kept Opening, and large 1 bundles of paper kept thumping on the floor, I figured everything was -under control. Finally there was silence, but it only lasted about 20 minutes. Then the door started opening and closing and papers started thumping Then there was silence for another 20 minutes and the door started opening and papers started thumping again. This went on for about an hour. - j " By then my nerves were shot, and I got up to see what was going on. , The borrowed wagon could not take the strain, and the wheels broke , off. I have-not looked into how' much it will cost to have it fixed. My son was taking bundle after bundle of papers out to his route and coming back for refills. He had s broken out in a sweat but was de-. termined to handle it. 7 , By this time, readers missing their papers,' were calling to com-'., plain. In fact, the phone was ringing: constantly. Finally, I could take it no longer, piled the papers into the. car and helped him finish the route. Am I discouraged? Yes! Is my son discouraged? No! I offered to raise his allowance so he doesn't , feel the need to continue this insani-' ty. Besides, the upkeep on this route is breaking me. He accepted the raise, but wants to go on delivering the paper. He likes it The Davis County Clipper is? beginning its; home delivery service. ser-vice. Every attempt is being made ; to make things run smoothly. 1 However, my personal plea is that readers should remember that the & small person who is tripping over the sprinkler heads and stumbling) loudly up the front stairs, is someone's some-one's much-loved child. If a reader J finds it necessary to call in a com plaint, please remember that there is I probably a cringing, quivering v mother hovering in the background. So .far, it has been one of the worst months of my life. My son, feeling very mature and self-sufficient self-sufficient at the age of 14, went into the world to seek a job. Unfortunately Unfor-tunately for me, he found one. - First I'd like to state that I am very proud of his initiative. It hurts to see him growing up so fast, but he is growing up well. What I am finding hard to take, is the way the mean ol' business world is treating him. My son has joined the ranks of the 'neighborhood paper boys'. Since the Clipper is available only by mail in our area, he had to settle for another newspaper to deliver. In the beginning, he had 14 papers to carry. The route was quite some way from our home, but he packed up his little paper bag, that he had to pay for, secured the papers with elastics, that he had to pay for, and took off on his bike, that I had to buy new tires for. In an attempt to be a supportive parent, I jumped on my soij's bike and he used his old bike that he barely fits on and off we went I just wanted to be sure that everything would go smoothly. My son was " doing great, but I was so busy watching wat-ching him to be sure he didn't ride in the street, I wasn't paying attention atten-tion to the road. In front of several people at a gas station set on a very busy street, I crashed. Not only did I bruise most of my body, I broke his bike. It is going to cost $45 to get it repaired. I can't estimate what the cost of the loss of my self-esteem was as I lay sprawled across the sidewalk. My son worked for two weeks, delivering afternoon papers everyday every-day by A p:m4' atid deUveting theT now dreaded Saturday and Sunday editions by 7:00 a.m. After two weeks, he collected a paycheck for $5. One day, he reached the last house on his route, and was one paper short. He had to run to 7-11 and spend onefifth of his last two weeks' salary to buy a paper and complete his route. One sad day, his boss asked him ' if he would like to take on another route to make more money. Tempted Temp-ted beyond his resistance, he said, "Sure." He now has an additional 35 papers to deliver. Three short ' days passed smoothly. Then it was Sunday. Sunday papers are filled with everything every-thing the newspaper editor didn't use during the week, as well as insert in-sert after insert When he had them placed into plastic bags, that he had to pay for, to protect them from the jraint theyjweigheda tolkThey also v cdvered the entire, once mauve now ink black, carpet in the front room. |