I Wanted to Hold the Words
My new/old Sunday morning
Do you read the newspaper? The acutal physical newspaper. I’ve reunited with the Sunday paper and here is my love letter.
Experimenting still with this audio option—so it’s still me reading and it can be found on the podcast feed.
Lately, I have had this visceral need to hold words. Hold a newspaper to be specific. Please don’t confuse this with a desire to read the news. Honestly, I would prefer not to, it’s not usually that great. I am not opposed to technology. I like a physical book but appreciate the convenience of a Kindle for travel. I read online on a tablet and there are many things I treasure that I find there. I mean to say that I am not a purist; I appreciate different pathways to words. But this craving just kept lingering in the back of my mind for weeks. After it didn’t pass, we added Sunday newspaper delivery to our digital account. The actual physical newspaper, you know the one in the dog poop bags. We don’t have a dog but we now have dog poop bags.
Delivery day
The morning of the first delivery I pulled up the shades and looked out the window. “It’s here!” I exclaimed and my husband looked at me with confusion. “The newspaper!” I declared. It was like Christmas for a middle-aged woman in the suburbs. I am really rocking middle age; the Sunday newspaper is my delight.
I dug right in, taking in the smell and feel of the paper. My child observed the paper spread out over the couch with a perplexed look. He asked, “What is that?” I joyfully explained to him what a newspaper was and how it was once the primary news source. He marveled at the size of the pages, still confused as to why we had a newspaper exactly after never having seen one in our home. Eventually, he was no longer interested, bored with my excitement, and off he went.
I noted an ink blot and the imperfection made me smile. I read about Paris preparing for the Olympics, a 9-year-old UK chess prodigy, the crisis line 988, the life of Betty Gordon, Jennifer Weiner’s thoughts on Shannen Doherty and difficult women, and so much more. I could have read all this online—yes. But I didn’t. On a Sunday morning, I held the words and found myself somewhere between the past and present.
Different chapters
I grew up as many did, watching my parents read the newspaper. At the time the comics were all that interested me, which my father faithfully put aside for me. As an adult, newly married living in a basement apartment on a picturesque street in Boston with rats in the walls, we got the Sunday paper. I was a post-doc trying to expand into the edges of what I thought being an adult was. I would read the paper into the late morning, eat frozen waffles with peanut butter, drink a pot of coffee, and feel kind of adult-like. I never knew what that type of quiet morning would mean after kids. It was like a dreamland. Did it even really happen? Eventually, we moved, got deep into busy careers, had kids, and all the things. No more slow Sunday mornings to read the newspaper. Reading the newspaper feels like a nostalgic step back paired with a step forward into some type of new chapter. Now I can read more than a sentence because my children can stand a slower start on a Sunday, well kind-of, but I will take what I can get. Maybe it’s adult-like or parent-like or it’s just something I enjoy.
It's just a newspaper and it has its limits, but this isn’t about the state of journalism, current events, or what form of media is superior. It’s a pause from the streamlined and efficient. It’s ink splats. And they are beautiful.
What about you?
It’s about the newspaper but not really. What do you slow down with?
I am so delighted by this article! I had already decided to ask for a physical newspaper for my birthday this year! I want my kid to experience the joy of news in print. I want her to see how we would read all sorts of things (not just what an arbitrary algorithm thought we’d want to read). The absolutely delicious sensation of having slow breakfast over the news. Recycling the paper by using it for all sorts of things. I am so excited now I can’t wait!
The newspaper! So many memories! There used to be a morning and evening paper delivered. And the 12-year-olds that delivered the paper had to walk around the neighborhood once a week and collect money from their customers. 12-year-olds walking around with pockets full of cash! I also equate reading a Sunday paper with being very adult! Even though I only ever read the entertainment sections.