The Valley

The subject of the Valley comes up a lot here at VK, and now also at our reunions.
I'm not sure how most would define the term...... that's a topic for the comments..... what does "The Valley" mean to you?
Technically, to me it meant the neighborhood on Old Smith Valley road, from the E.U.B. Church, down the hill to Paddock road, then South, half a mile or so toward Olive Branch road.

I think I may have been the youngest "Indianapolis News" carrier in history.
I have no way of knowing if that's true.... no way to check. I just know the regional manager said I was the youngest ever when he gave me the paper route.

But at the age of ten I decided having a little jingle in my pockets would be a wonderful thing! I can't even remember the kids name, but he was 2 years my senior and lived in the Hiatt addition, just over the fence and four houses North from our house. He delivered papers in The Valley and he was moving. He needed someone to take his place.

I proposed becoming a small-businessperson to my parents. They were concerned for a thousand reasons. Having their 10 year old son take on that responsibility was scary. They knew I would be married to the route, delivering the Indy News on weekday evenings, and the Indy Star early on Sunday mornings. They knew they would bear the responsibility of watching over my shoulder to insure it was done properly.

I was so young, they even worried about my ability to make change when I did my weekly collections.
I knew they were leaning in the right direction when we practiced making change.
I knew the route was probably mine when I showed I could do it successfully.

I've had many milestones in my life.
I delivered The Indianapolis News in Smith Valley for almost 5 years, and I think that route taught me many important things that have served me well all these years.

Suttons, Perrys, Dotys...... I delivered the news to many with those names.
Many that didn't carry those names lost the name when they married. When I took the route, I delivered 21 Daily and 13 Sunday newspapers. When I handed the route over to John A. (who lived next door to the E.U.B. Church), I was delivering 54 daily and 32 Sunday papers.

I rode my bike past Doty's (then Hatfield's) Standard Service Station, The Beehive, the Smith Valley Community Center, the aforementioned E.U.B. Church, Effie Robinson's Variety Store, and Don Sutton's Grocery. During the Winter, the pot-bellied stove at Effie's was a welcome place to warm up while munching on a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup. Summertime would find me outside, sitting on the bread box at Sutton's grocery, after grabbing an ice-cold Pepsi and a bag of peanuts inside.

When there wasn't a pick-up basketball game going on at Steve W.'s, the old bridge over the creek near Steve W. and Jane Ann C.'s house would beckon for 30 minutes or so. I always seemed to have a sidekick alongside to go down and skip rocks on the creek, or gingerly ride our bikes upstream when the creek was frozen over.

The route was a life lesson.
Many of those homes were occupied by old people. More than once I went to collect for my papers, only to find there was no one to collect from. People get old and they die, ya know..... even those you have learned to love.
Old people get lonely, and if they have no one to talk to but a very young paper boy, well, he'll do...... it's better than bein' alone. Part of my pay came from devoting the necessary time to someone that had not spoken to another human being all day.
All people are different.
Some are "not quite right".
Some folks will go to great extremes to avoid paying a young businessman the few cents they owe him.
Some women will pay their bill wearing very little clothing, just to see what reaction results.

But customers all wanted to read the news, and they wanted their newspaper delivered in one piece, dry, and on time.

The route taught me about budgeting and saving for the future,
and I did always have a "jingle" in my walk!
Such fond memories.
I wouldn't trade 'em for the world!