I sure didn't grow up like your typical kid. My father had a print shop and my mother kept the office, with no where to leave us kids, we followed along in the evenings and summers when we weren't in school.
My father was constantly buying a new printing press to keep up with the times. I knew as the big semi pulled up to the loading dock that it was going to be a big disagreement between my mother and father. She knew a new press would mean a long commitment of long payments. But, honestly that was par for the course.
Our family's print shop was kinda the Cheers hangout for the community. It was not uncommon for people of all walks of life stopping in for a few minutes of chat and a 25 cent soft drink. I remember one of the judges of our town loved our place as well as the local barber who always had his share of stories or better yet a little gossip on what so and so was doing. Birthday parties for us kids were held there. We never knew what customer would attend or maybe the circuit judge would as we thought he was the circus judge.
Days were long but times were still fun as we listen to the never ending clank bang of the many machine that were ongoing throughout the day. Lunch time was especially fun as we had permission to go to the cash register and get enough money for burger and fries. After lunch we would go to the back door and sit and watch the cars go by for no better thing to do. As we grew, our father put us to work when he would get large orders of booklet to assemble. We would work hours assembling the different variety of orders. We were no stranger to work and work we did. One day a customer told my father he was going to report him for child labor, kidding of course but I have to admit I thought possibly early retirement was in store for me and my two siblings. Work ethics was instilled in us at an early age. We came to love the old print shop with what our friends said look medieval and scary but to us it was home away from home.
Years went by and I soon married and another generation came to enjoy and love the place I called my real home. So many stories of this not so pretty wonderful place but I will sadly say it ended October 24, 1989 when my dad fell to a heart attack right where we used to take dolly rides from the front to the back. Before long the ambulance arrived and my world stood still as the paramedics worked feverishly to save my daddy. They were unsuccessful and that day time stood still as they took him away. We later sold the old print shop where so many memories are locked in the old building. I pass the place still to this day and I envision seeing my daddy, mother brother and sister there printing one more job and having just one more ordinary day in a place we loved and called home.