Brewtown Politico

Carrying a little stick and speaking loudly in Milwaukee


The paper route was a right of passage for many of the kids in the neighborhood where I grew up. Every weekday afternoon, I'd sub the sections, jog the stack of papers into my bag, and set off into the community to fulfill the demand for knowledge and sales ads. On Sunday mornings, I'd begrudgingly drag myself out of bed, and with the help of my mother and our trusty mini-van, deliver vast piles of oversized newspapers. Collecting was the worst part of the job. If only they would have given us paperboys hired goons in order to put some pressure on local deadbeats to pay their bills instead of pretending they weren't home when I'd come knocking.

Despite that, I have to agree with Andrew Hollis that having a route was one of the best memories of my childhood. It provided a sense of independence, and allowed me time to do something the growing number of obese people in this country should be doing: exploring my neighborhood on foot and taking in the beauty of my surroundings.


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