Scattered Seed

January proves to be a frustrating month for me, birdwatching. A few birds might arrive before I leave for work, but most often they are scarce at that time of the morning, just as day breaks. When I arrive home, the sun is heading down, and they have disappeared for the day. The seed level in my feeders tells me that they have come and gone, with the exception of my little American tree sparrow. He (0r she) is solitary and faithful, pecking away in the feeders or around the deck, morning and night. Some days it is the only bird I see.

Yesterday one of my co-workers brought in the Ithaca Journal. She had gotten it free with her coffee that morning. She knew that I read the local paper during my lunch, and thought she would share news from Ithaca with me too. It instantly brought back memories of another time.

I was maybe twelve or thirteen. My dad had taken on a newspaper route after his job of delivering the mail. He always had a second or third job I think – something to help with the family expenses – 4 growing kids and 2 adults. He finished up on his mail route mid-afternoon, about the time I would be getting out of school, so he asked me to ride along and help deliver the papers. We would go to a little office the Journal kept on Main Street in Trumansburg. It must have been an afternoon edition. Dad would visit with the other delivery people, we’d load up our papers and be off on the road. He taught me how to fold the papers in thirds, and tuck it together, something the customers seemed to appreciate. I loved watching him shove the folded papers into their red boxes, and drive off to the next one. It was effortless motion for him, as he did it all day on the mail route.

I can remember certain back roads in Trumansburg, route 89, and the road along the lake to Sheldrake. We would stop at the little store at the four corners at Sheldrake and Dad would drop off their papers and come out with a couple of Slim Jims, one for him and one for me. Dad would be whistling, or the radio would be playing – he let me choose the station. The one song I specifically remember was ‘Happy Together’ by the Turtles. We’d finish up, and head home, just in time for dinner. It’s a special memory of a time spent – just me and my dad.