I have a newspaper carrier who probably will never make the major leagues. Since I read two papers and have two different carriers, my delivery rate is about fifty percent right now. It’s not that I don’t get the paper; it just isn’t anyplace accessible.
The regional paper is right in front of me on either the walk or the lawn, thanks in no small part to Jeep Man, my loyal delivery person who has one heck of a flinging arm and shoots that paper straight out the window of his trusty vehicle every morning.
The local paper, on the other hand, is a different story.
Whoever the carrier is, they apparently pull up to the apron of my driveway, take a few steps from their vehicle to the sidewalk and let sail, so the paper may wind up on my top step or, most often, on either side of it, down in the greenery. Sometimes I guess it slides off the steps and plummets earthward, but often it just lands there with one shot. Some days it’s so lightweight it might blow off on its own. On one famous morning, I looked in vain for the paper, only to look up casually and discover it nestled in the tree branches above the walk, where its green bag camouflaged it perfectly.
How do I know all this detail, when the paper comes at around 3:00 AM while the world is sleeping, including me? Applying my Holmes-like power of deduction, I have seen the footprints in the snow on white mornings when the paper comes, so I can clearly see what they have done. My best guess is the delivery person has one heck of a hook on their pitching arm.
Yesterday we had some snow I didn’t see coming, probably because I was so busy I missed the weather forecast again. As I went out the door to sweep and retrieve the regional paper, I saw the telltale footprints from the driveway to the pavement, but I saw no trace of the paper. It wasn’t on the steps, so I figured it had to be in the greenery, so I went into what winter has done to my home-front gardening efforts and poked around with my broom hoping to unearth the paper. No success.
When all efforts fail, one does what one must to get the news; I bought a paper at Wawa and called the paper’s offices to discuss my issue. My operator had a pleasant voice and the patience of a saint, but after two or three attempts to find my account (which panicked me, since we’ve read the paper since before I could read), she finally found us in the system and informed me that I had never provided a delivery location preference.
That’s a thing now?
I said my understanding was that the paper would be on the doorstep by 7:00 every morning, so I expected it to be there, to which she replied that she had updated my account to specify that. This morning the paper was on the step, and I found the missing paper, now that the snow had been rained upon and melted, several feet from its usual location near some garden debris.
We’ll see how the delivery goes for a few days more. Maybe the pitching averages will go up. One thing is sure: I doubt I will stop reading the papers and rely on other sources, especially because I like the puzzles, the comics and Dear Abby.
Newspapers still matter, even if they’re hard to throw.
Susan's Scribblings the Blog 