Every morning, I open the front door and retrieve the day's newspapers. We subscribe to two, the local paper to keep up with what's going down in southeastern Colorado, and the Denver Post, so we know what's up in the big city. Our third subscription expired a year ago, when the Rocky Mountain News closed. I read in today's Post there's to be a one-year anniversary gathering Saturday of former Rocky employees..."to raise a toast or two." Hopefully, the unemployed of a year ago are doing well, and the event will be more a festive reunion than cry fest.
I know my subscriptions can't save the Pueblo Chieftain and Denver Post from going the way of the Rocky. And I get it that we could read both papers online and save money and reduce our carbon footprints, but to relinquish the subscriptions for the ecological and financial good just isn't a consideration.
I grew up with a daily paper at the breakfast table, the sections divvied up - sports to my brothers, the comics passed one to another, my dad reading the serious news, my mother the women's columns.
Reading the daily newspaper was the main source of how we received information, and no matter how small the press or remote the subscriber, the newspaper delivered the world to our doorsteps.
Within the newspaper was something for everyone.
This 1930s tear provided a quilt pattern on one side.
And on the backside, three patterns for outer wear and lingerie, a hog production meeting,
and the fabulous reportage of mail delivered via a grasshopper.
Newpaper delivery via a Google search provides a single-dimensional view of just the facts requested. There is no backview of unrelated articles of the ilk that, like a great joke, were repeated at the water cooler, gossiped over the backyard fence, clipped and enclosed in correspondence, helped break the ice, saved in a scrapbook.
A computer screen doesn't encourage the reader to turn the page. That's print's domain, and one to which I will always subscribe.
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