A Paper Boy Makes Morning Deliveries

BY CLIFF LOWELL

My son, Craig, had an Omaha World Herald delivery route in Minden, Nebraska. He delivered papers early each morning. On Sundays, when he had more customers and the papers were much thicker, I helped him. Three-year-old Leanne often went with us.

We put feature pages inside the news sections and counted just enough for 66 customers. We were short one for us. We loaded them in the middle of the front and back seats of our car and headed eastward.

The sun was coming up and there was a gentle breeze. Birds were singing praises to a wonderful fall day. Pink, orange, red, and violet colored the clouds beautifully.

Craig dropped the first paper behind a screen door and brought back three large beautiful leaves for Leanne.

We continued along the route with Craig delivering on one side of the streets and I, on the other. A bunny froze on a lawn as Craig circled around it.

A small dog on my side of the street was worrying about the paper, unaware of a more interesting diversion on the other side.

We stopped at the paper distributor's home. Craig rummaged through papers in his pickup and found one for us.

Now the clouds had golden edges matching the yellow leaves of a cottonwood tree that shivered in the breeze and flashed sequined reflections.

A dog, disturbed by the opening of a screen door, barked a warning. Another one took up the alarm and followed Craig menacingly until the owner appeared to reprimand it.

We continued to the outskirts of town.

"Look! Milkweeds!" Craig said as he returned to the car and handed Leanne some pods he had picked. One was partly open. The layers of seeds inside looked like brown mottled feathers of a tiny pheasant hen that had crawled inside to hide. We watched some loose fluff touched by the breeze tiptoe across the road like ballerinas.

I let Craig out to make deliveries close to home where my wife, Lona, was making breakfast.

"I'm hungry," Alyssa said. "I'll set the table."

Craig soon joined us.