The newspaper route: A hurry, scurry tale

This is a tribute to my mother, Margaret Woods, who died on March 10, 1999. This also is an opportunity to tell my former English teachers that I am alive and well, and still like creative writing. Thank you, Mrs Blackburn, who thought it was perfectly legitimate to write about something that interested one's self. My mother encouraged that, too.

It's Monday morning. My husband is displaying the morning ritual, reading the newspaper, and the front-page picture captures my eye. It's a nice looking lady sitting on a forklift -- interesting. I will have to check that one later.

For now it's on to feeding the dog, fixing my son's lunch, hustling my husband and son down the driveway, planning dinner, counting the calories on the butter tub and hoping I can steal away a few minutes to go back and read that article about the lady on the front of the paper. By the way, if you think you are reading about June Cleaver, forget that!

I finally finished most of the morning "Monday after the weekend" stuff, so, a little laden with guilt, I sat down with the coffee and toast in hand. One couldn't help but stop and listen to a little distraction often noted in Jane Clute's perceptions of the environment as my favorite birds chirped merrily outside the window. Can't get better than that, right? Finally, I could sit a moment and digest more of the paper and that front-page article.

As I sat reading about the woman and her successful forklift business, I began thinking about my own mother, another business woman before her time. Mother practiced and stressed good work habits to us early on. Of course, I didn't know that when she was balancing all of the activities in the home, in addition to working alongside my father in his law practice, that she was an entrepreneur.

As I look back, I see that she was an amazing and industrious lady. She had worked from an early age, managing school and family duties even before her own marriage to my father in the 1930s. During the course of her training, Mother won the state title for the best stenographer in North Carolina. After attending Duke University as a day student, Mother became the assistant for the publisher of The Durham Sun. That must have been when she developed her future plans for her own family.

Later, she was also offered the opportunity to work for the president of Erwin Mills. Mr. Erwin thought my mother was absolutely the best. Mother never owned a newspaper or a mill; however, those experiences were to give her children many opportunities. Little did she know that one day she would have all of her own children in the newspaper business. It began every day after school with our rolling papers for delivery to the neighbors.

My brothers and I were a little spread out in age, but each of us came home from school and immediately began rolling up the papers, putting the rubber bands on them, and then stuffing them in the carrier bags. This paper was known as The Evening Herald. We could not play until the chore was done. Homework was later.

The fun was the competition between my brothers and me to see who could roll the papers the fastest and get the bags stuffed. This was all completed, rain or shine, because reading the paper was a major activity in those days. Successful delivery was the goal even if it snowed. We received few calls of dissatisfaction. Mother would see to that! Can you believe I thought all this was fun?

The best part was my brother allowing me to accompany him as we bicycled around the route. The dogs weren't on leashes back then either. They didn't take too lightly to invaders with newspapers, similar to the UPS folks now. Anyway, on Saturday mornings, the brothers would go collect for the paper. My first true reward was the fruit of this collection activity. Oh, how we cherished those dime tips. We thought we were rich when someone gave us a quarter, and the equivalent of millionaires with a silver dollar. Those silver dollars showed up in my mother's estate, and now they are worth plenty, even with inflation. No one plans to cash them in, however.

The newspaper was the spark for many family discussions. Reading the paper was important in our family. I can remember Mother sending clippings when we were away -- everything from local news to important editorial opinions, advice articles and comic strips. My mother had an eye for wise investing, which she followed with interest in the paper as well. We always teased her about writing the book on how to live like a million on a dime.

The fruit of her investments played out in each of her children. I hope to incorporate my dream in an occupation one day -- composing. I'm composing a piece of music for our ladies' choir. Without the business sense of my mother, I would not have had the music background to even attempt such a task. She worked -- and played piano. She worked so that I could play the piano. She worked so that all four of her children received college educations, master's degrees, and could support themselves.

Was it a perfect time? No, my mother often was tired because she also would stay up late after we had gone to bed to take care of home duties, business duties, read about investing and help my father with other family business decisions.

So, I pay tribute to everyone who aspires to build on their dreams through hard work. I'll always appreciate the morning newspaper and the hurry, scurry tales we can share from those experiences.

Thank you, Mother. Now I'm going to go work on that music.

This story was originally published May 10, 2008 at 11:54 PM.