Pedals and Pages: Tales of a Young Papergirl

During middle school, motivated by the desire to make some extra cash and develop a sense of responsibility, I took the initiative to apply with the Argus Leader as a Sunday paper delivery girl. The prospect of having a job like my older siblings thrilled me, particularly because I could complete my route independently, without any assistance from Mom or Dad. Each Sunday morning, often before dawn and always prior to church, I would rise early to meticulously fold and bag the newspapers before embarking on my delivery route. Riding my reliable red ten-speed bike through Ethan, I cherished the peaceful stillness of the early hours while appreciating the significance of my role within the community. This opportunity allowed me not only to earn my own money but also to learn valuable lessons in discipline, dedication, and the rewarding feeling of a job well done. Looking back, delivering the Sunday paper for the Argus Leader was my first real taste of independence and responsibility.

Each Sunday morning, the Argus Leader dropped the bundle of newspapers on our covered front porch. Upon rising, I quickly got to work separating, folding, and bagging them to prepare for delivery. The task, though repetitive, carried a certain comforting rhythm – folding each copy carefully, slipping them into plastic bags, and placing them neatly into my delivery bag. The fresh scent of newsprint filled the air, mingling with the crisp morning breeze under the shelter of the porch. Folding each paper just right ensured that readers would receive a tidy, pristine edition, while the plastic bag kept the newspapers protected from unexpected rain or dew. This small but essential routine filled me with pride, knowing these bundles would soon find their way to eager readers, delivering stories that would inform, entertain, and inspire them throughout the day.

Once the newspapers were carefully stacked and bagged, I slung the familiar delivery bag over my shoulder, its weight threatening to pull me over. The early morning air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of dew and freshly cut grass as I mounted my bike, ready to begin the day’s route. With a swift push of the pedals, I glided down the quiet neighborhood streets, the crunching of tires on gravel blending with the distant chirping of birds. Each stop was a brief moment of connection – placing the paper on doorsteps, hearing the faint shuffle of early risers inside, and knowing that my small task helped keep the people of Ethan informed. There was a sense of freedom in the motion, a simple joy that made the morning light feel alive, and with every turn of the wheel, I felt the pulse of the waking world around me.

Occasionally, as I made my early morning rounds delivering newspapers, I would stop to chat with friendly customers waiting patiently on their front porches. These brief exchanges became a cherished part of my routine and made me feel like a respected grown up. From sharing my latest news about middle school to hearing stories about their lives, these conversations added warmth and familiarity to my otherwise solitary journey. These encounters not only broke the monotony but also deepened my appreciation for the neighbors I served, turning my Sunday chore into an opportunity to connect and engage meaningfully with others.

Not every Sunday newspaper delivery went smoothly, and I vividly remember one particular morning when things took an unexpected turn. As I pedaled my bike down Main Street with my bag of newspapers snug against my back, I felt confident and in control. But then I turned onto a gravel road a little too sharply, and my wheels skidded on a patch of loose rocks. In an instant, I lost balance and wiped out, skidding across the road with a whoosh of breath and a shower of newspapers scattering everywhere. The shock was quickly replaced by a mix of embarrassment and determination; brushing off dirt and gathering my scattered papers, I limped to my bike and continued my deliveries. That clumsy fall taught me to be more cautious around corners but didn't deter me from my job.

Another memorable incident happened when I went a mile east of town to deliver newspapers to the Tobins. Usually, I could enter their fenced yard without any trouble to leave the paper on their front steps. But on this particular Sunday, their dogs were outside. I assumed they were friendly dogs; otherwise, the Tobins wouldn’t have let them roam during delivery time. However, as soon as I stepped into the yard, the larger dog began barking aggressively and watched me warily. I carefully kept an eye on him while I made my way toward their porch. Just as I thought I had passed the challenge, the smaller dog – less threatening in appearance but surprisingly swift – suddenly lunged and bit my ankle, catching me by surprise. The bite wasn’t serious, yet the unexpected encounter taught me an important lesson about exercising caution around all animals, regardless of their size or temperament. After that, I triple checked for dogs before delivering papers, and the Tobins collected their newspaper outside their gate.

In the chilly embrace of winter, when the roads were slick with ice and the biting wind made even the hardiest shiver, Dad would fire up the old ’67 Chevy Impala, its engine rumbling to life like a loyal beast awakened from slumber. The snow-covered streets made riding my bike on the route not just exhausting but downright dangerous, so the Impala became my trusty chariot. With its winter tires and sturdy frame, the car was more than just a vehicle – it was a warm sanctuary against the cold, shielding me from the harsh elements of a South Dakota winter. Dad and my quiet conversations mixed with the nostalgic hum of the radio to create a comforting backdrop, turning what could have been a grueling chore into a memorable bonding experience. Together, we conquered the winter paper route, each stop a small victory against the season’s merciless chill.

While delivering newspapers was relatively simple, one task I especially found challenging was collecting payments from customers each month. On a monthly basis, the Argus Leader required me to visit each residence to collect payments, a responsibility that often felt challenging and demanding. Many customers were friendly, but some were forgetful or hesitant to pay on time, which made the process uncomfortable. I had to keep meticulous records and remember who had paid and who hadn’t, which added an unexpected administrative burden to what was supposed to be a simple kid’s job. Additionally, handling cash in varying amounts made me extra cautious to avoid mistakes or accusations of wrongdoing. Despite the challenge, this task taught me valuable lessons in communication, patience, and money management – skills that have helped me in countless other areas of life.

During the holidays, I was pleasantly surprised when a few thoughtful customers brightened my Sunday by giving me Christmas gifts like McDonald’s gift certificates and bags of candy. These unexpected tokens of appreciation not only made me feel valued but also added a touch of festive cheer to my routine. The McDonald’s gift certificates offered a delightful treat after my piano lessons in Mitchell, while the sweet bags of candy reminded me of the warmth and generosity that often characterize the season. These simple gestures created a sense of connection and gratitude, making my weekly task more enjoyable during the cold months.

As the seasons changed and I grew more confident along the route, those early mornings shaped more than just my work ethic—they became a cornerstone of my character. The paper route was instrumental in teaching me several key qualities: resilience when I had a bike accident, bravery when confronted by aggressive dogs, the value of community through each interaction, and the significance of accountability in managing financial transactions. When I entered high school and moved on to new jobs and challenges, the memories of those quiet, purposeful rides and the faces behind each doorstep stayed with me. They reminded me that sometimes, in the simplest of duties, we find lessons that carry us far beyond the road we travel. And every time I see a newspaper rolled and ready, I’m brought back to that crisp morning air and the feeling that, no matter where life takes me, I’ll always carry a piece of Ethan – and its people – with me.