Wednesday, February 18, 2026

 

ESSAY - WORKERS IN THE NIGHT

DONOVAN BALDWIN
BY DONOVAN BALDWIN

Just Thinking:

When I was about 14, in Pensacola, Florida, I got a paper route. On my bicycle, I delivered the Pensacola Journal in the morning, the Pensacola News in the evening, and the huge, to me, combined Sunday edition.

I used to think that one of the most valuable lessons was the responsibility of getting up at 3 AM, picking up my papers at a tiny local gas station, delivering them dry and on the porch (or in the tube), no matter what the Florida weather. Same for the afternoon after school, AND staying awake in class, doing homework etc.

Recently, I've changed my mind a little.

The other stuff is true, but, as a young boy, I became aware of workers in the night... gas station attendants, ambulance drivers, police officers, the guy who raised the drawbridge, and even the people who wrote the news, printed the papers and those who delivered them to me. I saw the lights come on as people got ready to leave for work, or, I saw them come home as the sun came up.

Most kids didn't get to see that. For them, the world existed pretty much sun up to sun down.

Takes a lot of people behind the scenes to make the day happen.... and the night. I don't forget people I've never seen, the ones doing things I don't know about but are necessary.... or wanted by the rest of us.

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If you enjoyed this essay by the Fort Worth poet, Donovan Baldwin, you might also enjoy his essay, Rites Of Passage.

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