Do you remember paperboys? (Sorry I know that’s not a gender neutral term. If I use it again, just think child who delivers newspapers).

These days, adults deliver newspapers while driving in their car. They throw the paper out the window and you’re glad if it lands in your driveway, much less close to your house. During rainy weather, you’re lucky if the paper isn’t thrown at a velocity that makes it scrape along the concrete and tear the bag open, leaving you with a soggy mess.

Back in the day (when I was a kid), newspapers were delivered by 12-14 year olds. I never had a paper route when I was that age, but I did have some friends who were paper carriers.

Once in a while I would help my paperboy friends on their routes. I was usually motivated to do this because I was anxious for them to finish so we could play basketball, ride bikes, or just get into some mischief. (Shhh! Don’t tell Mom!) When I helped my friends with their deliveries, we would put most customers papers in between the screen door and the front door of their house.

During that golden age of newspaper delivery, you knew who your paper carrier was, and you had his phone number. If your paper didn’t arrive, the paperboy got a call, and you got a paper real soon. They would even come around every week and collect the money you owed them.

Now, you never know who your paper carrier is and you never hear from them. Oh, I forgot… You do hear from them once a year: when it’s time for their Christmas tip.

What brought on this nostalgic longing for the age of paperboys? Today, for the fourth time in the past seven days, I did not get a paper. Each time I called the newspaper’s delivery hotline and eventually I did get one. Although I must admit, I really wasn’t in the mood to read the afternoon paper when it arrived at 7:45pm last night.

I can’t help but think, this would not be as big of an issue if I only had a good old-fashioned paperboy.