Calvin F. Larson
September 28, 1923-December 3, 2019
If you met Cal Larson while wandering along a Reston pathway, it’s unlikely that you would come away knowing he was a lawyer honored by both his profession and his community. Instead, you’d know possibly more than you wished about his Washington Post paper route, which he held until his mid-eighties, his penchant for swimming to work most mornings, switching from Speedo to three-piece suit in his office overlooking Lake Anne Village Center, and his large and amazing dog Guinness, who helped deliver the Post and greet clients.
Nancy N. Larson
August 28, 1926-March 13, 2020
Nancy Nugent Larson (née Moran), descendent of abolitionists, civic activist, Episcopalian, and entrepreneur, was surrounded by family when she quietly took her final breath. A huge proponent of family, she lived long enough to know and love seven generations of relatives, perhaps her proudest accomplishment. Certainly, she was a fan of the family saga, brightening all familial occasions with stories of the ancestors that only got better and better in the retelling.
Our family moved to Reston in 1967, when I was fifteen. That was also the summer I had the second round of orthopedic surgery on my feet. Both at the same time so that I would be able to start school in the Fall cast-free. There we were, renting a house just a few doors down from Lake Anne Village Center, a five split-level affair directly across from the Heron House high rise. Visitors from around the world still thronged to Reston, peering into our windows as though we were zoo animals. I couldn’t walk, didn’t have a single friend in Reston, didn’t like television except for Star Trek, and was BORED! Luckily, I had Mom.
Read Sarah’s memories of her mom →
The career of quite possibly the world’s oldest paperboy is over. Cal Larson, age 86, has quit the paperboy business. After 18 years of delivering the Washington Post, day after day, week after week, Sunday edition after Sunday edition, Cal decided he’d had enough. One Saturday morning last month, after he rose at the crack of dawn, sorted newspapers, and finished bringing the daily news to three of Reston’s lower-income apartment complexes, Cal dropped the last paper on the last “welcome” mat.
World’s Oldest Paperboy Quits the Route →
“My father died as he lived, a man for others. His last party was a celebration for the young mother of our household, who had just become a US citizen. His final action was to smile broadly at my mother when my nephew pushed the wheelchair up to the table with a flourish and said, “Look, Cal! There’s your wife!” And his last words were quiet and peaceful, as he looked out over Lake Anne.
“The branches are not moving. The wind must be still. How beautiful.”
Indeed. How beautiful.”
— Sarah Larson