Frango Mints

 

I was around eight or nine years old when my brother handed me a business opportunity. You see, my older brother had a paper route five mornings a week. He would have to go out every morning before school to deliver the Chicago Sun-Times, and Tribune. He'd usually leave by seven in the morning to do this task which covered most of our little subdivision. But Dave had a problem. He had one lady who insisted on getting her newspaper delivered by six in the morning. That meant that Dave would have to roll out of his warm bed an hour earlier than he wanted to. So in a flash of brilliance he gave me the job of delivering that six o'clock newspaper. At first it wasn't too bad. I'd get up, get dressed, and grab one newspaper to deliver to the lady who lived about three blocks away. For this my brother paid me fifteen cents a week. Fifteen cents went far over at Rudy's candy store, so I didn't complain. Then months passed and it was now December. Fifteen cents didn't seem to be nearly enough for getting up before it was even light outside, putting on all my winter clothes, and trudging through the snowy streets. One morning stands out clearly in my memory. It was snowing hard and a few inches were already on the ground. No snow plow had passed through, yet I slogged on. Just fifty feet from the ladies house, a dog started barking at me. A dog running loose on the street. The dog did not like me and came running up and snapped at my legs. At first I tried to just stand still, but the beast persisted, pulling at my snow pants with its fangs. I tried swatting it with the Tribune in my hand, but that only angered the dog even more. So I started screaming. Screaming like the little boy that I was. Finally, the lady whose newspaper I was delivering opened her front door and yelled at the dog to come home. Remember, I was just a little kid. I wasn't allowed to be rude to grownups. So with tears in my eyes, I handed the lady her newspaper. It was a couple of weeks later, just before Christmas, that the lady opened her front door for me again. She said, "Merry Christmas." and handed me a box. It was a large box of Frango Mints. Expensive candy from Marshall Fields. It didn't make things right, but did help a little bit. When I got home, I did not share that box of candy. I did not give any to Dave. I tell you, it was pure joy eating those mints in front of him.