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MY MOTHER WANTED ME TO MAKE SOMETHING OF MYSELF AND AFTER EVALUATING MY STRENGTHS, DECIDED I HAD BETTER START YOUNG IF I WANT TO KEEP UP WITH THE COMPETITION.
BUT SHE UNDERSTOOD THAT I HAD NO GUMPTION. MY IDEA OF A PERFECT AFTERNOON WAS LYING IN FRONT OF THE RADIO REREADING MY FAVORITE BOOK. SEEING ME HAVING A GOOD TIME, SHE USUALLY SAID, "YOU'VE GOT NO MORE GUMPTIONTHAN A BUMP ON A LOG. GET OUT IN THE KITCHEN AND HELP DORIS DO THOSE DIRTY DISHES."
MY SISTER DORIS, THOUGH TWO YEARS YOUNGER THAN I, HAD ENOUGH GUMPTION FOR A DOZEN PEOPLE. SHE ENJOYED WASHING DISHES, MAKING BEDS, AND CLERANING THE HOUSE. WHEN SHE WASONLY SEVEN SHE COULD CARRY A PIECE OF SHORT-WEIGHTED CHEESE BACK TO THE A&P AND COME BACK WITH THE FULL QUARTER-POUND WE'D PAID FOR. DORIS COULD HAVE MADE SOMETHING OF HERSELF IF SHE HADN'T BEEN A GIRL. IN THOSE DAYS THE BEST SHE COULD HOPE FOR WAS A CAREER AS A NURSE OR SCHOOLTEACHER.
WHEN I WAS EIGHT YEARS OLD I WAS SUPPOSED TO SELL THE SATURDAY EVENING POST, THIRTY FRESHLY PRINTED COPIES, EVERY TUESDAY. 
TUESDAY CAME AND I TOOK MY MAGAZINESAND WENT TO THE BUSIEST STREET. WHENIT WAS SUPPER TIME, I WALKED BACK TO THE HOUSE.
"HOW MANY DID YOU SELL?" MY MOTHER ASKED.
"NONE."
"WHAT DID YOU DO"?
"STOOD ON THE CORNER WAITING FOR SOMEBODY TO BUY A SATURDAY  EVENING POST."