Confessions of a Paperboy

February 5, 2015
Day 281

When I look back on my childhood, I can clearly see the many ways I was a normal kid.  I was an altar boy, a clerk at the A&P, a babysitter, and even a Little Leaguer.  But perhaps the most identifiable trait of a normal boyhood on Long Island?  I was a paperboy.

I took over a friend's Newsday route not far from home, most of which was indoors too, making it a supremely sweet gig on the harshest of bad weather days.  And I loved it, I really did, but there were some...interesting moments as well.

One day, I rang the bell of an apartment in hopes of collecting money owed, and a young man answered the door in his underwear.  The bulge behind the thin white cotton was unmistakable, and I tried my best not to stare.  The view from behind was quite nice too.  I was only 14 or so, and had no idea how old he was: young enough to not scare me, but old enough that he wasn't ashamed or worried about inviting a child into his apartment while he grabbed his wallet.  Nothing unseemly happened, and he wasn't even acting strange--more like hungover--but I'd be lying if I said the experience wasn't a pleasant one.

I was still a kid, of course, but I think it was the first time I ever felt like some kind of adult future was closer than ever.  What if the right young guy or fellow kid answered the door?  What then?  It made my head swim with ideas and possibilities, and in a pre-internet world when being gay was still a major secret, it was the closest thing I had to even the hint of a sexual fantasy.

Other occasions presented their own awkward moments, like standing in old women's doorways while they talked my ear off about God knows what.  I was a polite young man, and didn't brush anyone off, so they'd just keep me there until they were ready to dismiss me.  I was impressed at how much they trusted me though.  People would leave their valuables in easy grabbing distance while they left to search for their purse or other stash elsewhere in the house. 

These were the years when I learned what apartment living really meant, as well as what a mezuzah was.  I had no idea until then that Jewish people marked their doors in such a public way.  I suppose I should be glad it wasn't lamb's blood, but I do recall asking tenants back then what it meant, and listening as they happily explained it to me.

Life as a paperboy was a lot of fun, and I often made really good money too.  I even rose to the level of Master Carrier with Newsday--got a special card and everything!  It didn't open any new doors, but like so much of my years as a paperboy, it was the start of many years trying to master more and more on this paper route called life.