My Grandfather, Ernest Sands, was a railroad guy. After World War I he began working for the railroad and pretty much never stopped until they kicked him out at retirement. What I remember about him was working. And the best memory was him working with me.
Every Saturday morning, before normal people were awake, we would walk for four hours or more delivering handbills. Handbills, at least that’s what we called them, were a one piece door hanging advertisement for a local cleaners (where my Mom worked). I received $10 for my efforts, which seemed like a king’s ransom to an eleven year old.