by Salvatore A. Barcia Jr. (posted July 31, 2018)

I am glad to say I was an enterprising child. The annual Walk-a-thon was a chance to sell lemonade. I delivered newspapers and carried grocery bags for tips. In one misguided venture I sold rocks door-to-door (I almost sold one until the kid’s mom not-so-politely negated the transaction).

Extra, Extra!

My first paper route was the Pennysaver. Delivering it every Tuesday for about an hour brought me a pittance in salary, but I was enthralled at having – for the first time – my own regular income. Not only could I buy comic books with my own money, but now I could get subscriptions! This taste for financial independence led me to my first Christmas Club account. Saving $2 weekly for a year, I was able to buy a tape recorder. Imagine how it felt being able to tape songs from Solid Gold with my very own recorder (the early 80s version of streaming audio).

Eventually I upgraded to the Islander, delivered twice a week. One Friday evening while packing circulars with my cousins, we saw an ominous sign. As we prepped for the next day’s delivery – and after getting sidetracked by a newspaper fight – we realized the lead for the supermarket flyer was “STRAWBERRY.” We were sure this commemorated Darryl Strawberry’s long-awaited Mets debut that very evening.

Later I moved on to the New York Post, making the huge leap forward to a daily newspaper with weekly collections. I got to know my customers, and they were happy to support a local boy with generous tips each week. My customers were spread across many blocks, so I counted on my Huffy bike.

Ghost of Christmas Presents

Some Christmas gifts remain special to your heart. There were standouts such as the Jaws shark, an Iwo Jima play set, Micronauts, and of course G.I. Joe. One year I got a set of girders to build highways and buildings for my Matchbox cars. This allowed me to create a small city with my friend Adam, and subsequently destroy it as King Kong and Godzilla. Then there was the year I got my first big-kid bike. The Huffy had been a well-hidden secret, but after my father assembled it I caught an accidental glimpse. Sorry to feign surprise on Christmas morning, Mom and Dad, but I can attest to how excited I was when I saw it in the bedroom!

Learning to ride a bicycle is easy for a child, and I quickly developed the requisite young person’s air of invincibility. Sliding stops, speeding down the slope on Wainwright Ave., poorly timed jumps, and ill-advised chases. One jump led to my chest hitting the handlebars so hard I thought I would never catch my breath. Like most kids I never wore a helmet, kneepads or any other protective gear. Some say we were freer, others say it was dangerous – I’ll leave such discussions for the never-ending “debates” on social media.

Changing Times

In the deliberations on what’s lost and gained in humanity’s never-ending steamroll of progress, I state it’s sad the paperboy is a thing of the past. Today – for the few who even get newspapers – adults whip papers out of moving cars and payments are done online. You no longer see kids carting them before school, collecting once a week, or lugging a huge bag door-to-door.

A paper route was a starter for learning the power of hard work and the value of a dollar. It built character and pride. People got to know neighborhood kids, and kids got to know their neighbors. As this fades, there’s one less chance to make real connections in our increasingly virtual world.

Panic

Tensions ran high in the summer of ’79 (seems we can say this almost every year). One of the biggest problems was an oil crisis resulting in a gas panic. Across America, gas lines extended to enormous lengths. A burden for adults, this was an opportunity for a group of enterprising brothers, cousins and friends.

After securing a few shopping carts, we filled them with coffee, bagels and donuts. Each day we would trek to the lines and get to work selling. Gas lines can be torture, so we provided a brief respite with a snack and hot beverage. Our customers were happy to have a diversion, and we were glad to deliver it for a small fee. We spent all day going from station to station, had a great time along the way, and made a fortune on a kid’s spectrum of wealth. People were kind and welcoming, leaving their flared tempers in check.

Such experiences helped me develop a sense of responsibility, hard work, and awareness of opportunities. We put in the sweat to accomplish something, and while of course we had support (I gather the initial investment was made by our parents) on the whole we did it ourselves. I’m sure we weren’t the only enterprising youths out carving our way through the world, and hopefully we weren’t the last (if you’re lucky you might find some kids with shovels ready to help next snowstorm).

As we create opportunities for our children, lest we forget to let them figure some things out for themselves. Nor should we disregard the power of working hard for a dollar’s work at a dollar’s pay. When faced with the need to solve a problem, kids can be extremely creative and driven when left to their own devices (plus a little nudge of support). And they’ll leave with a taste of what it’s like to get it done on their own . . . hopefully a lifelong pursuit.

Coffee, anyone?