Kent

He hopped off his bike and took the paper to the porch where Lois Holdaway was  standing.  Thank you Kent, she smiled and off down the sidewalk he continued.  He tossed the paper on the porch of the next house and the next 10 houses on his route.  His papers never missed a porch.  He was a master of his trade.  If he had live in New York, he could have been a Peanut Vendor at Yankee Stadium.  But Kent didn't live in New York.  He lived in Orem, Utah, a small city located beneath Mount Timpanogos in central Utah.   His next paper flew into the outstretched hand of Dwayne Finch, the best baseball player to ever play at Orem High School.  You could have been a great pitcher Dwayne yelled with a smile.  But he knew that was not true and so did Kent.  Kent went on, 2 more porches, 2 more perfect deliveries.  Kent prided himself in his perfect throws.  No one ever looked for one of his papers. It was always right there on the porch, right where the customer wanted it.  Ten more porches, ten more perfect strikes.

The next house was Doris Hamilton's, a handicapped lady who lived alone.  Kent would always get off his bike and walk the paper to her door.  He would knock lightly and say "paper Mrs Hamilton" and deliver it personally.    She always said, "thank you Kent" and tried to  hand him a tip.  He never accepted it.  He never ask for or accepted a tip from her for his service.  He knew she was poor and needed to keep her money.  It went that way all along his route.  His customers loved him.  No one could recall ever missing a paper.  If there were a world's record for consecutive deliveries or un-missed deliveries, Kent would certainly have owned it.   He had many years  (I was never sure of how many) with out one missed delivery or one complaint.

I got my paper route when I was 13 years old. Fifty-four customers.  I knew Kent because he was our paper boy.  I didn't know how long he had been doing it but it was for as long as I could remember.  My pick up location was the same as his.  On my first day, he took the time to show me how to fold and bag the papers.  After he finished his route of 200 customers he came to my route to make sure I didn't have any problems.  I was barely half through when  he arrived and helped me finish. I struggled with my route.  I hated the cold. I hated getting up early on Saturdays and Sundays. I hated that dam paper route.  If it hadn't of been for Kent I would have been fired in the first week.  He helped me.   You'll catch on he would say.  It really is easy.  Kent loved his route.  It was his life.  It seemed to be part of him.  In fact it seemed to be him.

One day I ask my mom how old he was.  He didn't go to school.  He didn't seem to have any friends.  I'm not sure, she said.  I think somewhere around 30, but I'm not really sure.  I don't know if anyone knows.  Why is he so little I ask?  I was only thirteen and small for my age but he was a head shorter than me.  He spoke with a tiny voice that was something just above a squeak.  Oh he had plenty of volume but he sounded like  you might think a doll would sound.  He was toe headed and wore big horn rimmed  glasses.  His nose was turned up so that you could see his full nostrils and his skin lacked pigment.  He didn't look like a midget, just a skinny little kid waiting to grow up.  A human ugly duckling that would never turn into a swan.  My mom just answered, I'm not sure of that either.  He's just little.

All the kids made fun of him except me.  My mom would have tanned my hide if she caught or even heard of me making fun of him or any one else.  I think that's why he helped me.  He wasn't afraid to talk to me.  I always wanted to ask him why he was so little but the manners my mother taught me would not allow me to ask.  It might embarrass him  Looking back, he probably would have been more than happy to tell me.

My stint as paper boy didn't last long.  As I remember it, about 2 months.  When the first winter snow hit, I quit. Kent continued to deliver the paper until one cold day in December when I was a junior in high school.  Where's the paper I heard my dad say.  Oh Cecil, haven't you heard, Kent passed away yesterday.  Oh, my dad said as if it was something that happened everyday.  My dad wasn't callous, he just could not show emotion.  I stood in our big front picture window looking at Mount Timpanogos and shed a tear for Kent from both me and my dad.