Passing It On

Life lessons learned from a paper route

I learned a lot from my first job, as a newspaper carrier, namely:

1. Aluminum storm doors make an ungodly racket when struck by a well-folded brick of newsprint.
2. A person can eat just so many chocolate covered cherries.
3. Some adults “earn” their beer money by stiffing the paper kid.
4. Some minister’s wives would feel right at home on a burlesque stage.
5. That postman’s creed about delivering in rain, snow, darkness, etc., goes double for paper boys.

Oh sure, there were grand lessons of responsibility and financial independence, but the real nitty gritty came from the wildly unpredictable personal interactions and financial dealings with adults outside my family.

I was 13 when I assumed control of Route 60a of the Council Bluffs Nonpareil, about 75 subscribers over an eight-block area on the blue collar west side of town for which I would earn 11 cents per customer for delivering their paper seven days a week, 52 weeks a year, except for Christmas Day.

The Nonpareil was an afternoon paper six days a week, but shifted to mornings on Sundays. Those were the days I had to trudge nearly a mile in the predawn darkness, stuff preprinted sections and ads into the main paper and trudge back to start my deliveries. Obviously, this could be a brutal winter experience in Iowa.

Good service was the key to tips, which usually came a nickel at a time with the paper priced at 45 cents a week – except for Christmas, when roughly every other customer added a box of chocolate covered cherries to your booty. Good service meant not banging those aluminum doors. It was much wiser to slip the paper between the front doors, especially on days when lousy weather was expected.

Whatever the weather, customers expected timely, dry delivery of their paper. That made it doubly frustrating when customers just scratched their heads come collection day, usually on Friday night. It didn’t take long to realize who the deadbeats were, but the paper had a policy of not cancelling anyone less than four weeks in arrears and the carrier usually ended up eating the loss.

That sting was assuaged a bit by the kindly grandmotherly types who were generous with their praise and pocketbooks and the occasional floor show by a particular minister’s wife, whose collection-night attire (as filtered through the eyes of a 13-year-old) could best be described as “flimsy negligee.”

Being a paper carrier was hard, but rewarding, work. Having control of a few dollars a week at that time of my life was good training for the years ahead. I was able to start a savings plan for college, had a steady resource stream for my new hobby of coin collecting and learned plenty about dealing with adults I only knew on a business basis.

But, after a few years, it was time to move on. Next time, I’ll tell you about my working days at Twin City Bowl.

Author Larry Lehmer's book about Dick Clark and American Bandstand --  Bandstandland: How Dancing Teenagers Took Over America and Dick Clark Took Over Rock & Roll --is available from Sunbury Press. His book about the last tour of Buddy Holly, the Big Bopper and Ritchie Valens -- The Day the Music Died -- is available at Amazon.

Flickr photo courtesy of ratigger76.

Work: It’s more than just what we do

Studs Terkel’s book about work in America is simply titled “Working.”

But the subtitle of the 1974 classic is more revealing: "People Talk About What They Do All Day and How They Feel About What They Do."

Our work is as important to us as it was to our ancestors. You may find occupational threads in your own family histories – lawyers begetting lawyers, farmers producing farmers – or you may find crazy quilt non-patterns, reflective of changing times, upward mobility or, perhaps, streaks of rebellion. Regardless of your own personal history, our jobs help define us.

With Labor Day 2008 on the horizon, I’ve been thinking about the jobs I’ve held in my lifetime and what I’ve learned from each. Over the next several days, I’ll write a bit about my work history and the life lessons taken from each job. I’ll start with my days as a newspaper carrier and proceed through my jobs at a bowling alley, with the railroad, for the Omaha public schools, as an Air Force officer and through my lengthy career as newspaper reporter and editor before my current position as a personal historian.

As you sort through your own working years, what jobs have given you the most satisfaction? What have you learned from each stop on your career path? While I hope you’ll include that information in your own personal history, it would be great if you shared it here, too, with your comments.

Author Larry Lehmer's book about Dick Clark and American Bandstand --  Bandstandland: How Dancing Teenagers Took Over America and Dick Clark Took Over Rock & Roll --is available from Sunbury Press. His book about the last tour of Buddy Holly, the Big Bopper and Ritchie Valens -- The Day the Music Died -- is available at Amazon.

Flickr photo courtesy of mjkmjk.

Grandpa says: Don’t forget to think

What would grandpa do?

If an Iowa teenager had considered that before sending a risqué video tripping through cyberspace recently, he might have avoided the embarrassment and serious legal charges that have placed a black stain on his own personal history.

The 18-year-old man avoided a stiff jail sentence and a 10-year stint on Iowa’s sex offender registry by pleading guilty to a lesser charge, but the 10-second video of him “fooling around” with his girlfriend that he sent to a 17-year-old friend has cost him and his family plenty.

Although he’s a standout athlete, college recruiters stopped calling when the initial sex crime charge was filed. His father has had to tap into his retirement account to come up with $50,000 to defend his son, whose actions he described as a “high school prank.”

High school pranks have changed a lot since grandpa’s day. We all have stories in our own family histories that we wish would just go away. Up until recently, it was pretty much word of mouth that perpetuated them. No more.

“Once it gets out there in cyberspace, it can get to YouTube, and people continue forwarding it on and on, and it’s a problem,” Polk County Attorney John Sarcone told reporter Jennifer Jacobs of the Des Moines Register.

Our indiscretions are much more public these days, with cell phone cameras and surveillance videos just about everywhere. Add in the viral distribution of the Internet and it’s not surprising that incidents such as this are becoming increasingly common.

“A year from now, five years from now, these cases are going to increase exponentially,” Sean Berry of the U.S. attorney’s office for the Northern District of Iowa told Jacobs.

As with all manner of electronic communication, I’m pretty certain my own grandfather would say: “Think twice before you push that send button.” Your own personal history may be at stake.

Author Larry Lehmer's book about Dick Clark and American Bandstand --  Bandstandland: How Dancing Teenagers Took Over America and Dick Clark Took Over Rock & Roll --is available from Sunbury Press. His book about the last tour of Buddy Holly, the Big Bopper and Ritchie Valens -- The Day the Music Died -- is available at Amazon.

Flickr photo courtesy of Mishel Churkin.

Reclaiming what the tornado stole

It’s really a room in City Hall, but it looks more like the sorting room of a last-stop thrift shop.

Tables are covered with mud-stained photographs of beaming brides, drooling babies and a man in a plaid shirt, a forkful of potato salad an inch from his wide-open mouth. A grandfather’s clock, grimy sock puppet, tattered quilt and baseball glove sit forlorn, waiting to be reunited with their owners.

A few blocks away, a retired middle school teacher and retired nurse have set up shop at a library table where they’re hard at work collecting and assembling stories of their friends and neighbors into a keepsake book.

This is the scene in Parkersburg, Iowa, as reported by Reid Forgrave of the Des Moines Register this week, nearly three months after a powerful tornado ravaged the town of 1,889, killing eight and destroying 200 homes and businesses.

Besides the millions of dollars in material damages, the 200-mile-per-hour twister also swept away countless priceless family mementos, wiping out centuries of family history. Ever since the May 25 tornado those mementos have been trickling back home, including a quilt that was found on a rooftop 35 miles away.

Police chief Chris Luhring, recognizing the value of the items, created the lost and found area at City Hall. “There’s very sensitive stuff,” Luhring told Forgrave. “Stuff that’s priceless.”

Retired schoolteacher Ruth Haan and retired nurse Janet Johnson took on the unofficial role of town historians when they recognized the value of the stories of the townsfolk who had lived through the tornado. In late June they started collecting those stories.

“We gotta collect this stuff,” said Haan. “We’re just going to stick the stories together so 100 years from now someone … can read and learn their great-grandpa was in the tornado.”

Added Johnson: “I don’t ever want this lost.”

Author Larry Lehmer's book about Dick Clark and American Bandstand --  Bandstandland: How Dancing Teenagers Took Over America and Dick Clark Took Over Rock & Roll --is available from Sunbury Press. His book about the last tour of Buddy Holly, the Big Bopper and Ritchie Valens -- The Day the Music Died -- is available at Amazon.

Flickr photo courtesy of EckhoffExposures.

Does age matter? You bet

What does age matter? Quite a bit sometimes.

The difference of a year or two could be the difference between gold and silver medals at the 2008 Olympics where the United States women were relegated to second place by a Chinese team whose top performers are alleged to be under the minimum age of 16. How many areas of human endeavor can you think of where a 14-year-old has an advantage over a 16-year-old? Gymnastics is apparently one of those areas.

Age matters to the rest of us, too. With a November birthday, I was the youngest or second-youngest person in my class throughout elementary, junior high and high school. Being the youngest person in a group was so natural for me, I barely noticed.

But within my family, I played a different role. As the eldest of four sons I had the dubious distinction of raising my parents, acting as a sort of lab rat while they – also first-borns in their respective families – worked at perfecting their parenting skills. My brothers, of course, benefited from my pioneering efforts.

As I left the family nest, though, age became less of an issue as I passed the milestones of voting eligibility and legal alcohol purchase and consumption. I remember the first time I wasn’t “carded,” at the age of 23. I was elated by that experience at an Illinois liquor store until I realized that the clerk had casually extracted a $10 fee for the “privilege” by shortchanging me.

That was about it for the better part of three decades until I was invited to join AARP on the 50th anniversary of my birth. Frankly, I had no idea one could get so old at such a young age, but I warmed to the idea of senior citizenship over the next few years when I considered the perks of discounts and free fast-food coffee that beckoned.

But, as America has aged, those discounts have become more elusive. After receiving my first department store senior discount at age 55, the store yanked it away by changing the qualifying age to 62. This happens a lot these days as the definition of “senior citizen” has become  something of a moving target.

Some places, such as my local senior center, don’t define the term at all. “If you think you’re a senior, you are a senior,” was the center manager’s response when I asked about it. That works for me.

Author Larry Lehmer's book about Dick Clark and American Bandstand --  Bandstandland: How Dancing Teenagers Took Over America and Dick Clark Took Over Rock & Roll --is available from Sunbury Press. His book about the last tour of Buddy Holly, the Big Bopper and Ritchie Valens -- The Day the Music Died -- is available at Amazon.

Flickr photo courtesy of PittCaleb.

Reunions are great, but they don’t last forever

I’ve got a confession to make: I so enjoyed my class reunion last weekend that I didn’t fully realize its significance. That’s a stark realization, coming from a personal historian whose profession is based on the value of claiming our legacies for future generations before they slip away.

It was a grand two-day affair that marked the 45 years that have passed since our class of 243 graduated from Thomas Jefferson High School in Council Bluffs, Iowa. Of the 80 or so who took part, most were “reunion regulars,” classmates and spouses who catch up on our ever-changing lives every five years.

But there were surprises, too. I reconnected with Bernie Miller, who grew up across the street from me, but who I hadn’t seen since high school. I met Howie Anderson, cousin of a classmate, who played in local garage band Andy and the Manhattans  (“Double Mirror Wrap Around Shades,” sample it here or hear the entire song here). Dave Wolfe also shared the story of how he and a couple dozen of his army buddies from Vietnam rallied to the side of a dying former commanding officer.

But, as I absorbed as best I could the details of every conversation with every person I met over the weekend, I never once considered that this might be the last time I will see any of them. My local paper printed an essay about class reunions by Lynne Wisman (Mason City High School, Class of 1959) over the weekend. Lynne points out that the 50th “may be the last reunion, the last time we’ll see our high school friends.”

There are still about 200 surviving members of my high school class but we’re dying at an accelerating rate. Statistically speaking, that’s normal, but it’s still a somber and bittersweet realization that some of the people I shared a laugh with a few days ago won’t be around in five years to do it again.

Our reunion committee, spearheaded by Linda (Lee) Hook, had the great foresight to publish a survey of our class members for anyone who wants one. The much-appreciated resulting book contains bios and contact information for every classmate, plus a compendium of favorite stories, entertainers and songs as well as a list of our first cars. It was a first-rate job at preserving a slice of the personal histories of a group of people who came of age before cell phones, CDs and PCs. Thanks, Linda, and the rest of the committee.

Author Larry Lehmer's book about Dick Clark and American Bandstand --  Bandstandland: How Dancing Teenagers Took Over America and Dick Clark Took Over Rock & Roll --is available from Sunbury Press. His book about the last tour of Buddy Holly, the Big Bopper and Ritchie Valens -- The Day the Music Died -- is available at Amazon.

Photo: Linda (Lee) Hook and Larry Lehmer at TJHS reunion by lwlehmer.

Time to dig out those high school yearbooks

Do you like class reunions? I thoroughly enjoy mine, although it took me over two decades before I went to one.

The first reunion I attended wasn’t even mine. It was my wife’s, 20 years after she graduated from Omaha’s Bishop Ryan High School. I had such a good time, I couldn’t wait for the next one, the 25th anniversary of Council Bluffs Thomas Jefferson’s class of 1963. We’ve been regulars ever since.

My class gets together again this month and I’ve been given the honor of speaking to the group about my work as a personal historian. My classmates and I are at that age of self-reflection where we look back on our lives, consider what we’ve accomplished and how it will matter to future generations.

High school reunions give us a chance to reconnect with an important part of our past, those who were at our sides during those formative years before we struck out into the unknown of the real world, to take our places among honest-to-goodness adults where our thoughts and actions truly meant something.

Stories are at the heart of every reunion. Stories of dreams fulfilled and promise unrealized, joy and heartbreak, life and death. Every story we hear or tell at a reunion matters to us. They are threads woven deeply in our life’s tapestry.

One point I hope to make to my classmates is that our family stories matter, too. Even if our kids and grandkids don’t care about them today, they will someday. It’s our job to make them available when they’re ready, even if that’s after we’re gone.

Author Larry Lehmer's book about Dick Clark and American Bandstand --  Bandstandland: How Dancing Teenagers Took Over America and Dick Clark Took Over Rock & Roll --is available from Sunbury Press. His book about the last tour of Buddy Holly, the Big Bopper and Ritchie Valens -- The Day the Music Died -- is available at Amazon.

Thomas Jefferson High School logo courtesy of neoarcana1.

Harry taught us about junk and money

 

As a youngster growing up on the west side of Council Bluffs, Iowa, I was very aware of the junkyard just a few blocks from my home. My young mind, fueled by television shows such as the Hardy Boys, could only imagine the treasures hidden behind the junkyard’s high, metal walls.

Imagine, then, my disappointment when, as a young paper carrier, I finally got a glimpse behind those walls and saw … well, junk. Piles and piles of nondescript auto parts, appliances and other discarded remnants of the burgeoning post-World War II economy.

Then someone told me that the junkyard’s owner, Harry Yates, was a millionaire. I didn’t get it. Millionaires were hoity-toity sorts who were careful not to spill their martinis, not burly junkyard guys with grease-stained faces who wiped their brows with grimy rags they kept at the ready in their hip pockets.

To this day, when I think of millionaires, I see Harry Yates. This young paper carrier who made 11 cents a week from each customer on his route saw hope in that vision of Harry. While my parents had already done a good job of teaching me and my brothers the value of a dollar (a sum rarely accumulated by any of us in those days, I might add), thrift was a habit easily developed as we increasingly took responsibility for our saving and spending habits.

Thrift is apparently a habit in short supply these days. The savings rate in the United States is at its lowest since at least World War II while credit card debt is soaring in these difficult times. With the stunning changes that will accompany the jarring transition to a post-carbon economy, our heirs especially will bear the burdens of those changes.

I believe there are lessons in our own family histories that can help them. Make certain that you pass on the lessons about money that you have learned from your parents and grandparents, particularly those who survived the depression. They may come in handy.

Author Larry Lehmer's book about Dick Clark and American Bandstand --  Bandstandland: How Dancing Teenagers Took Over America and Dick Clark Took Over Rock & Roll --is available from Sunbury Press. His book about the last tour of Buddy Holly, the Big Bopper and Ritchie Valens -- The Day the Music Died -- is available at Amazon.