When I was a kid, I sold the Saturday Evening Post.

Post officials would come to town and round up a bunch of us kids, and we would go door to door to sell the post.

It sold for a nickel.

I think it was a national effort to raise the circulation so they could charge more for advertising. Think of it, kids all across America selling the Post.

Representatives of the Post would come into town and round up willing kids, provide them with newspaper bags, a little instruction and turn them loose.

I remember doing this twice, and was the top salesperson both times.

We didn’t get paid in money, but in prizes.  The more you sold the better the prize.

I got the top prizes on both occasions, but I had a secret.

I had a paper route in town delivering the daily paper, The Idahoanian, printed in Moscow, Idaho. It was a five-day-a-week paper that only printed on weekdays at the time. I had about 40 customers.

My mother taught me to be friendly, courteous and to respect my elders.

Of course, all my newspaper customers were my elders.

I would deliver on printing days right after I got out of school.

I asked all my paper customers where they wanted me to put the paper, and I learned their names.

The newspaper company billed me at the end of every month, and then I had to collect from my customers, pay the bill and whatever was left over was mine. As I recall, I made about $15 a month, a pretty penny back in 1938-39.

When I collected, I would always call my customers by name, politely.

So when I got my bag of Saturday Evening Posts, I hit those on my paper route.

My mother’s advice, when I followed it, always paid off.

I would sell my bag of posts, and then would go back for more.

When I would collect at the end of every month, I would pick up a few tips along the way. On the north side of town in Palouse, one of my customers was a guy and his sister who lived together. Every month the lady would invite me in and then pay me, pressing a nickel into my palm as a tip if her brother wasn’t looking.

Many of my customers would invite me in while they looked for money to pay me. It was a real cookie day.

I had the route for a couple of years and then got interested in other pursuits.

The Post representative thought I must be a super salesman. I never explained that I had an edge on the other kids.

The next time the Post came to town for a sales day, I did it again.

Courtesy, being polite and respecting your elders was certainly a winning combination then and still is.

I think that you reap what you sow. I have two grandkids here in the Coulee, Ashley Landeros and Travis Irwin, who must somehow have connected with my mother’s philosophy. Ashley’s three children, Kaylee, Damon and Westlyn, also are my rocks. Their friendship and many kindnesses are appreciated.