Guest Post by the Author John R. Cameron
WHEN WE KNOCKED ON DOORS
I
remember my first job, delivering newspapers door to door. I made good money -
for a kid, anyway. On my first pay day, I held my money in my hands in awe. I
thought back to all the hard work I'd done around the house for spending money,
wrestled away from my parents five dollars at a time. It was a dream job. Back
in the early nineties, I was making $300 bi-weekly. I socked some away for my
education. (I was forced.) I spent the rest. The paper route was on my own
street, in a decent neighborhood. Half my earnings were in tip money, back
before everyone started paying online - those few who still get the paper
delivered, that is. You learn a great deal about other people in that line of
work. The memories of the good folks who left me a couple dollars tip every
other week have faded, but I'll never forget the best (and worst) customers.
One
of the women was a stout, kindly old dear with short, curly silver hair. She'd
give me boxes of a specific brand of chocolate that I won't endorse, lest I
incur the wrath on you it left on me: a lifelong addiction to the fine
delicacy. Anyhow, sometimes she'd invite me in, and we'd talk while she stuffed
me full of home-made cookies. (She also tipped really well.) She'd ask me
My
papers were to be delivered immediately after school on weekdays, and by ten in
the morning on weekends. I was late once in the two years I had the route. A
brutal snowstorm hit overnight, leaving two feet of snow everywhere, with six
foot drifts in some places. One customer on my route called the company and
complained because his paper was late. Not undelivered. Just late. The same man who'd never tipped me. He'd leave an envelope
taped to his door with exact change in it on collections day. I never even saw
the man. In my mind, he was a villain; the Scrooge of my route, but without the
happy ending. I'm not sure if we're supposed to feel sorry for miserable old
curmudgeons or not. I guess it depends on how they came to be miserable and
curmudgeonly.
I
had a great route: a circuit, with my house smack dab in the middle. It
included the tallest apartment building in town, holding over half my customers.
The tower was a perfect square, and when I first started the route, I'd use the
elevator for all my drops. It'd normally take me ten or so minutes. The
superintendent gave me shit one day and told me to use the stairs. (The super
was a dick, but that's another story.) I compromised by taking the elevator up
to the penthouse level, then I'd storm down the stairwell, opening the door to
each of the thirteen stories, peeking out into the halls just long enough to
toss the papers at the apartment doors. The best part? It took me half the time
that way.
One
customer in the building constantly stiffed me. I'd show up to collect, and
he'd never have the money. "Come back tomorrow," was his mantra. I'd
call my company to complain, they'd tell me to keep trying to collect. They
kept sending a paper for him - papers which I paid for out of my collections.
This went on for weeks. Finally, I
stopped delivering his paper. He called and complained.
I
think the only sour memory I have of the entire experience is that in both of
the above cases, my supervisor (another faceless entity), called to chastise me.
In
my travels, I've been a paperboy, a convenience store clerk, a baker in a
factory, a baker in a supermarket, a gas station attendant, a telemarketer, a
teacher, a husband, and a father. I hope that the day comes when I feel worthy
enough to call myself an accomplished author, too.
A “Philosophical Odyssey touching on Faith,
Hope, Love, Morality and Redemption.”
Synopsis
On the evening of April 14th, 1865, a flawless duplicate
replaced the 16th President an instant prior to his assassination. Two
centuries later, Honest Abe opened his eyes to a world in desperate need of
guidance.
THE SECOND LIVES OF HONEST MEN is a prescient vision of where
society’s dependence on technology could be taking us. It’s a character driven
story about love, redemption, and hope, with deep philosophical underpinnings
related to how we think, feel, and reason in a world where it’s ironically easy
to feel disconnected.
Purchase The Book
About The Author
My family often drives
me to the brink of madness; not a difficult thing to do, considering how close
to the edge I already am. My daughter is a hellion. At the age of six, she’s
both bright and bold, obstinate, and pushes every button I have. My wife blames
my genetics: “I was never like that,” she claims. I deny it,
despite knowing that I was also an uncontrollable child.
I’m a teacher, but I
consider myself a modern philosopher. I’m very worried about the current state
of education. I’m concerned about the future, in general. I don’t think we all
necessarily need to be alarmists, though I do believe that if you look at the
world around you and aren’t a little worried, you and I
probably aren’t going to agree on much. (I’ll pretend not to look while you
navigate elsewhere. There’s plenty of other entertainment on-line. Crushing
Candy, and so forth…)
I’m currently working
on a couple of new short stories, and on the sequel to The Second Lives
of Honest Men, which I’m writing under the working title of The Old
Crow.
Visit his site
at http://www.embracetheirony.com/
To follow the entire tour and view the
schedule, Go HERE
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