The Flint Journal saved my Saturdays.
For most of my childhood, I woke up wishing Saturdays had never been invented. Saturday was cleaning day. And cooking day. And shoe-polishing day.
Mostly, my mom cooked. And it was my job to clean—to clear clutter, dust furniture, swab out toilets, scour sinks, vacuum carpets, wash floors, and to shine shoes for Sunday.
And all this with six little brothers and sisters underfoot. The older ones helped, except they kept drifting off, and it was my job to pull them back to their work. They’d dust the dresser but not the bedside stand. They’d smear shoe polish on a newly waxed floor. And they’d gag when they swabbed out the toilet, so I’d do it instead. Sometimes I wondered if they were worth it.
Much later I realized that Saturdays gave me grit, stretching my ability to persist, to meet a goal. But at the time, Saturdays were the bane of my childhood.
Except for the Flint Journal.
Every Saturday afternoon at 4:00, I practically grabbed the Flint Journal out of the hands of the paperboy. I’d flip to the third section to find the Wide Awake Club. Each week Aunt Judy, the leader of the club, posted a new topic: heroes, the perfect goof-off day, pets, my wish for the world. Flint kids competed for prizes with stories or poems or India-ink drawings.
I never entered an India-ink drawing, but each week I wrote a poem or a story. All week I’d wait for Saturday edition of the paper. If I won first prize, my dad would drive me downtown to the Flint Journal office. Aunt Judy would come out from behind her desk, shake my hand, and say something nice about my writing. From shelves filled with new books, I could choose one. Not much I owned was new, so I was proud of my growing collection, each imprinted with the Wide Awake Club stamp.
The Wide Awake Club got me through the dusting and shoe polishing. But it did more. I learned something important, something I’ve used all my life to keep going when it’s tough—that a carrot at the end makes a difference.
Apple to Apple 
That is so cool! I never knew this story of you writing in each week and earning books when you won.
And thanks for teaching us younger ones how to work. I still remember when I was probably 5 years old and had to straighten up the basement in Flint. I felt overwhelmed, so you said to me something like: “Don’t look at the entire mess, just look at one thing and put it away.” I still use your advice 55 years later.
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