Welcome to The Club Spring 2021

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THE Club
My Ordinary Life
By Old Farts - For Old Farts!
by John Gardiner
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SPRING 2021
P A G E
10
A father carries pictures where his money used to be. (unknown)
The following is an excerpt from the soon-to-be-released memoir, My Ordinary Life, by
Wallaceburg writer John Gardiner, who grew up and came of age in Hanover, Ontario during
the 1950’s and 1960’s. In My Ordinary Life, Gardiner tells the story of his growing-up years
with a series of colourful anecdotes about the way life used to be. More of the writer’s work
is available at www.johngardinerstories.com and he can be contacted at gardiner@kent.net.
Money Was Always a Problem
Money was always a problem for
kids back in the old days….most of our
parents were working stiffs and most of
our Dads toiled in the furniture factories
for fairly low pay. So, there wasn’t a lot of
money for the kids other than what the
kids could figure out how to scrape up on
their own. I was immensely lucky when
I was a kid because my Dad managed
to get me a job as a Toronto Star paper
boy. I earned 2 ½ cents for every paper
I delivered, and the Star wasn’t the most
popular paper in town, so I had a modest
route of about 25 dailies. Saturdays were
a whole lot busier because the Star had a
great magazine called the Star Weekly
and lots of people liked it because
of the TV Guide and comics
and the extended sports
coverage. So I had over 50
Saturday Onlys and it was a
busy time.
Then, the newspaper had
a big contest to increase
circulation. They took all
of the newspaper boys and
partnered us up with an
older high school kid. And
the high school kid took us
around and tried to sell
subscriptions. And the
team of high school kid and
newspaper boy that got the
most new subscriptions,
won fabulous prizes, like
the newspaper boy could
win an English racing bike
and I think the high school kid
got some money for college or
whatever. Anyway, my particular
high school kid was what you would call
a real go-getter. He was supposed to stick
to the area where my route was already
located, but instead he saw the whole
town as his oyster…and he set out to win
the contest.
And I must say that he did. When the
contest ended, I had over 60 dailies and
about 155 Saturday papers. It was like –
Wow – what could I say. I won an English
racing bike and the high school kid won
the money. And then they forgot about
me. And I had to deliver and collect for
155 Saturday papers every weekend. In
the good weather, I used my bike and
newspaper carrier and with about four
trips out from home could do it by maybe
eight at night. In the winter, when I was
hauling the toboggan, it would take me
until ten or eleven at night to get the job
done….Holy crap, did I work like a dog
for a while. I darned near killed myself for
2 ½ cents a paper. But, man, was I rich.
And I must admit that the newspaper
boy story leads directly to the donut story
and another valuable lesson I learned
in life as a boy. Even at 2 ½ cents per
paper, the money started to pile up.
Before I knew it, my Dad was telling
me that I’d built up about $300 in the
Guarantee Trust. And I was well on my
way to gathering up my first million and I
was barely ten-years-old….One winter’s
night, though, it was particularly stormy
and snowy and I was out collecting for
the paper and I’d missed my supper and
I ended up walking past Schultz’s Bakery
at about the time I was feeling particularly
hungry and tired and worn out. And the
big front windows of the bakery were all
steamed up and a woman came out the
front door as I passed, and it was like out
came this amazing aroma with her and it
stopped me in my tracks.
Now, technically, I had no actual
money even though the change purse I
was carrying was full of the stuff. That’s
because the money in the change purse
sort of belonged to the Toronto Star
and only a small cut of it
was mine. My money was
in the Guarantee Trust.
All the same, I was drawn
in through the front door
of Schultz’s and was soon
standing in front of a huge
rack of honey dipped donuts
and a vast array of other
baked delicacies. A lady in
a white apron approached
on the other side of the counter
and asked me what I’d like. I was
nervous and blurted out the first
thing that came to mind…..”Honey
dipped donuts”……when she asked how
many I wanted, I immediately replied “A
dozen,” because that’s how many donuts
people always got. And soon, I was back
outside in the cold and stormy winter,
but I was holding a whole box of donuts
that were all mine…..Not like back at
home where these donuts would be
spread around among six people – these
were mine.
So, as I walked the rest of my route,
I gorged myself on the donuts. I ate the
whole dozen and totally and completely
enjoyed myself while doing it. They were
likely the best donuts I’ve eaten to this
day – and I’ve eaten a lot of donuts over
the years. And when I finished, I got rid
of the evidence – the empty box – and
made my way home. And I had learned
my lesson. Saving was fun but spending
was even more fun. And once I got into
the spirit of it, there was no stopping me.
I started buying things at a feverish pace
and soon I was pretty well broke. And I’ve
stayed broke pretty well right to this day
but have somehow been able to avoid
living in the street or under a bridge….
and that’s mostly because people have
been kind to me and because of my
loveable and charming personality.