It was in October 1982 in my home town of Berlin located in the suburbs of central Connecticut. It was a brisk 60 degrees outside and fall was reaching its peak. I was waiting to pick up my stack of newspapers from the New Britain Herald on the corner of Wildemere Drive and Lower Lane. I wasn’t in a hurry this particular Friday afternoon and didn’t have any obligations to speak of except for perhaps a game of flashlight tag come nightfall with some of my neighborhood friends. I decided I was going to walk my route today instead of riding my bike like I normally did. My papers finally got delivered and I ripped off the yellow plastic tag which held together the stack of papers and stuffed them in my paper bag. My paper bag had a long shoulder strap which at one time had an orange reflector along it but had almost been entirely removed due to rolling it up to attach to my handle bars of my bike. So off I go heading up Lower Lane to begin my route which lead me up Peter Parley Row, down Worthington Ridge, and then back down Peter Parley Row towards home on the corner of Kramer Drive and Lower Lane. I had sort of a pattern I would go through as I delivered each paper at each house. Each house had its own specific request on where they actually wanted their paper delivered. Most of the houses preferred to have their paper delivered between the screen door and their storm door. Every once in a while a challenge would present itself when the storm door of one particular house was open and I had to have perfect timing to open the screen door, throw the paper inside, and avoid the racing dog towards the door. I had often seen on old TV shows of paperboys riding their bikes down the street and tossing their papers in the driveways of homes and would think how they had it made.
As I continued on my route I took special notice to some large maple leaves which had fallen to the ground and to the smell of the freshness in the autumn air. For a moment it had seemed that everything had frozen in time, and I put aside all the stresses that any 10 year old goes through in their life. I wasn’t thinking of how I misspelled a word on the spelling test we had that day which Mrs. Pulito gave us, or the fact that I had seen liver being thawed out on the kitchen counter for dinner that night. I was taking in the “moment”, breathing in the fresh air and appreciating my life, family, and anything and everything that came to mind. I was happy and fortunate kid.
I can distinctly remember thinking if it was normal for a 10 year old to take such pleasure in his surroundings and what my friends or family would think if I shared this. Little did I know at the time that some twenty seven years later, I would be writing about this particular moment in my life which brought such pleasure to me. As I think back to that time I am sure that there were many thoughts going on in my little brain, but it was that surreal feeling of goodness which my conscious brain captured, almost as if it knew I’d be going back there someday to relive it.
We all have these places and good times in our lives buried in our sub-conscious and don’t take the time to dig them out to revisit them. We owe it to ourselves and society to bring these “moments” from our past out of the cellar and allow a sense of gratitude to take hold. Gratitude may just be a word to some, but to me it powerful enough to heal a thousand wounds. I challenge you to go inside your cerebral closet and bring out of the dark, some past experience in your life that made you smile. Chances are if you smile, you’ll make someone around you do the same.
Make it the Best Day Ever!!!
My name is Scott Coletti, a physician, author, and internet entrepreneur. I am a Leader in the Plan-B-Pros and Life Path Unlimited Industry. I assist those who want to lead as well. I am married with four beautiful and healthy children and reside in Belleair, Florida.
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