^{Photo: Wallyg/Flickr}

When I was 11, I had a paper route, delivering the Jersey Journal on a Huffy bicycle with a canvas bag over my shoulder. Sometimes, when it hit 100 degrees so many summers ago in Rutherford, NJ, my father drove me to deliver the newspapers I knew had to be on the stoop by 5 p.m. And sometimes I walked the route, pulling a red wagon, maybe because my bike had a flat; I’m not even sure why I walked at times.

 The Jersey Journal was the newspaper for those New Jersey families that fled the cities of Hudson County for the “country” – the suburbs of Bergen County. The Journal was an important paper, a connection to the past. My route was the whole town.

 The Jersey Journal was my first love of printed words on a daily page. I didn’t mind the smell, or the inky dirt left behind on my fingers as I bagged them up for delivery. I always read the front section and horoscope before I set off, always a newshound before I knew such a term existed.

 When I was old enough to babysit, and then do my time as a fry maker at Burger King and Roy Rogers, I left newspaper delivery behind. But I never left newspapers.

 I always read them, the Journal, the Bergen Record, the New York Times … and especially The South Bergenite. The South Bergenite, the little local weekly, was where I set my sights. I always longed to write for them, to someday be a local newspaper reporter.

 And damn, I accomplished that goal. The editor who hired me for freelance work was fired soon after but I got to work as an acting co-editor when I was barely out of my first journalism class. I worked with people who disappeared into the dark room, with others who knew just the right way to hang the pages up to dry after being typeset, and how to use an X-acto knife to fix a typo before someone drove the boards to the printer.

 It was a world that evolved from cut-and-paste to wax and roll to FTP to the printer. It seemed to go so fast, from typesetter, to makeshift computer to all electronic. But I embraced every change, amazed that news came out everyday.

 The Internet changed everything. But still, I was in always in awe of power of the press, and its ever-changing way of delivering the news. It would be a long time before I knew rub-free ink would mean nothing, that we journalists would give our stories away for free and have no idea what that would mean. I’m not sure anyone knows.

 This week, for the first time in my life, I don’t work for a newspaper, but know the Jersey Journal exists, as does the South Bergenite and the Record. I see just a shadow of the South Bergenite that was once a power house, and the competing local paper, The Leader, which I helped re-launch under new ownership, no longer in existence after being bought out. It simply vanished. But at one time, the Leader was the go-to paper, over-shawowing all weeklies -- and dalies -- in the area. I’m still mourning its demise.

 But, I write. I’ve written for newspapers, magazines and blogs, and embraced many aspects of the web I couldn’t have conceived of so many years ago when I threw papers on stoops. I can get the news on my laptop, my phone, an iPad, on Twitter and Facebook.

 I survived a lot of layoffs, a lot of restructuring, over my years with newspapers. Every time I was spared the ax, I sighed a big belief. Had my share of survivor’s guilt … and know those left behind felt it a bit too. We had to reapply for our jobs, compete against one another … we root for ourselves, but with some guilt. Because if we win, others – our friends and co-workers –lose.

 This time I lost. But I’m happy for those who made it. A 50% reduction in an already small newsroom is no small thing. They have their work cut out for them. But they are all pros, and they’ll pull it off.

 For the 1^st time in my life, I’m unemployed. But I know I won’t be for long. I want to work, have a box of writing awards and will find a job soon. Sounds crazy, given the job market … but within 6 months – if not sooner – I’ll have a job writing somewhere.

 And my work won’t just be on a printed page – it’ll be Tweeted, texted, on websites, on blogs and Facebook. It’s a crazy time in the news biz. But I do crazy well.