Friday is distribution day.
Not much to it, and sometimes where the weather is suitable I’ll do the
deliveries on foot. I like the exercise
and the opportunity this gives me for chew the fat with neighbours. I can manage to get the whole thing done in
two trips by stacking the papers onto a small hand trailer I use to take
supplies down to the boat.
My biggest drop off is at the Coop store where I put a large
pile at the end of the two checkout lines.
The Coop is a combination grocery/hardware/sports/clothing store that is
the second largest business in town next to the mill. It’s been here since the town was founded
though the building had to be replaced after a fire just after the Second World
War. This kind of operation has been a
feature in most small towns in the west forever. They’re sort of a commune type of deal. Initially, people got together and bought
memberships to raise the money to erect the building and set up the first
inventory. In Midden Harbour, the store
had been built by volunteer labour with materials that were mostly donated. To me it has always represented the best of
community life, an example of cooperation (thus the name) and shared
support. When I want to get a dig in at
one of my redneck friends, I’ll start to praise how the Coop is a shining
example of the socialism at work. Never
fails to get a reaction.
My route winds up at the ferry dock at the end of
Beecher. Got a weatherproof box here to
serve the commuters. Usually empty every
week, and the coin box is full. Never had to worry about the money until a few
years ago when one morning I got a call from the ferry captain: “Say Dunc, did you move your paper box? I had a couple of riders this morning tell
me that they hadn’t been able to get their Shoreline ‘cause the box wasn’t
there.”
I went down to the dock, and there it was, gone! We looked over the edge to see if somehow it
had gotten knocked into the water. Sure
enough it had. Water is pretty clear
around here with the tides flushing out the bay twice a day, so we were able to
see the orange shape. With some helping
hands, a couple of grappling hooks and the winch on a friend’s pickup, we were
able to hoist the box back onto the dock.
It was all bent and the salt water would certainly have ruined the coin
mechanism. Not a big loss because I had
a spare. But the surprise was that the
coin box was missing. Didn’t take a
genius to figure out that someone had pried it open and taken the cash, then
pushed the box into the water. After
that I had come brackets welded onto the replacement and bolted it to the dock.
There’s no home delivery of The Shoreline Weekly, but when
we get a spectacular early fall day like this one, I like to take copies around
to the homes of some of the older residents.
Gives me a chance to catch up with people we don’t see around town as
much now that they’re less mobile, and I think they appreciate the visit. Butkus is the big winner, though. There isn’t a home we stop at where he doesn’t
get fussed over and fed.
My last delivery is always to Mrs. Snow. Butkus and I jump in the truck and take her
paper up to her. Often, because she
knows I’ll be coming on Fridays, she’ll get me to pick up a few things at the
Coop. I always enjoy these Friday
visits, but I’m especially looking forward to it today. Interested in seeing if I can learn more
about the comments she made about her son Jason the other day.
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