Maybe it has something to do with those earliest memories of delivering newspapers door to door; sometimes in snow drifts higher than my 10-year-old head when I lived in the small town of Hammond, Wisconsin.
Maybe it was the fact that my extreme shyness had to be overcome as I nervously knocked on the door to collect “dues.” Maybe it was the kindness of my northern neighbors as they laid generous tips upon me when they noticed the terror on my face.
Or it could be the little Lifesaver rolls (remember the ones that came in a little ten-pack book?), chocolates and even once a tenderly crafted homemade cat pillow, left for me along my route at Christmastime; sometimes they were the only gifts I received.
Although these images bring a Norman Rockwell-ish smile to my face, the real reason I love the paper is that it is full of ideas, ideas of what has happened, calendars filled with what is going to happen. It’s the pretty ads of things to buy and the opinions that I can take or leave.
I love reading the newspaper. It excites me and gets my creative juices flowing. And I am talking about the crispy inked pages of the hard copy newspaper, the one delivered to your door. No one ever folded up the online edition, or had the satisfaction of cutting and taping an online article. As the print edition of newspapers become less and less popular, and everything including grandma’s homemade soup moves online, a small part of me cries for the loss. Maybe it is the “newsie” inside of me that thanks the thin paper and black ink for all its valuable lessons and pocket change. Maybe it is just the inevitability that everything changes and sometimes there is nothing we can do about it. Whatever it is, part of me is sad.
Now, I am going out to pick up my Sunday paper and read it, while I still can.