LETTERS: SELLING YELL PAPERS A MEMORY TRIP

To the editor:

On Tuesday I took a walk down memory lane. I sold newspapers at the corner of William and Kingshighway for YELL to support the literacy program at our schools. This was the first time I have sold newspapers since I quit my paper route in Davenport, Iowa, in the summer of 1955. As I stood on the corner holding those papers again, my hands turned black from the fresh ink, and my shirt turned a dark gray. I kept thinking of that paper route in Davenport. It was Route 152, and it was started by my brother, Jim, with 58 customers. For the next 13 years it was passed to my brother Jack and my brother Pat, and then it was my turn. By then we had 140 customers, and I had to hire Dick Cram, a classmate, to help. I had no more brothers left.

As the people of Cape purchased papers or just smiled and said hello, I kept noticing how nice the people were (especially that early in the morning). I started remembering some of my own customers: the Reeds, the Gantenbiens, the Mustaphas, the Risleys and Mrs. Whipple. You see, my mom said it wasn't personal enough to know the people by address. We had to know and call them by name.

I thought of some of the times I had at the age of 12 and 13. The time I missed Mrs. Ricter's porch. When I went into the bushes to get the paper, wasps stung me six times. The time I collected at Mr. Dooley's and someone let the dog out of the basement. I was pinned up against the door, and he kept biting me while they argued about who left the basement door open.

There was Mrs. McGarvee who lost her leg to diabetes. She would ask her sister, Mrs. Collins, to put her on the front porch so she was there when I delivered the paper. We would talk for awhile, and then she would give me some candy. They would call my mom is I was late to see if I was sick or hurt.

I was selling papers for literacy, and it reminded me of the time the Times-Democrat (that was the name of the paper in Davenport) asked me to go door to door for the March of Dimes. Our route manager was to pick up the donations at the corner where they delivered our papers. The last pickup was at 9 p.m. It was January in Iowa, and the temperature that night was 10 below zero with a wind of 20 mph. My mother would only let me do 10 houses at one time, and then I had to come home and warm up. I ran to make the last pickup and then waited 15 minutes for him to come. Boy, was it cold. The next day when they announced the results, I had collected more money than any other carrier and six times more than the second-place carrier.

I thought about my two sons. When they were old enough, they started delivering for the Southeast Missourian. I told Tim and Matt that if they treated their customers with respect, the customers would treat them the same. One of Tim's customers told him to come inside one day. He told him that he had lived on Sherwood for 20 years, and no one had ever put the paper on the porch. He then gave Tim a $20 tip.

Matt was attacked by a dog, and two of his customers helped him out. Later, when the paper asked Matt to be in a TV commercial, he asked those people to be in it with him. I thank those people for confirming what I had told my sons.

Tuesday I spent two hours selling papers to help the literacy program in our city, but I received more than I gave. Thanks to all the people who smiled and waved at me, who bought papers or didn't buy papers. You again confirmed for me that there are caring people in Cape Girardeau. And -- oh, yes -- thanks for the memories.

D. JOSEPH McKEON

Cape Girardeau