Dear Reader,
In September 2004, this blog sprang into cyberspace, and I must
admit that searches for a topic have not always been an easy
one. Its a matter of freedom and discipline, the first
is the blessing and curse of being able to write about anything
that presents itself, and the second is held in the cold hands
of a monthly deadline.
I should write about this. When that sentence bubbles
up in my head, I cheer because something has switched on the
beacon to light up a topic. This month, it is my relationship
with the Sunday New York Times, because it has everything
to do with me sitting here, typing. Me, the five-year-old who
begged Santa for a typewriter and who was deeply but silently
insulted when it turned out to be a toy version of the real
thing I desperately longed for.
As a high school and college student growing up in Buffalo,
New York, the Times insinuated itself into my emerging
self whenever I listened to smarter and more sophisticated people
talk about anything: domestic and foreign news, fashion, film
(tut, tut, not movies), book reviews. People I looked up to
- teachers, A students, friends and friends of friends
held the key to a world of knowledge and opinion larger than
the Buffalo Evening News and Courier-Express.
A marker of tough times was when home delivery was too much
of a stretch, and one of us was sent to corner store to go
get the paper. Somehow, that act telegraphed how much
a trusted news source mattered.
It behooves me to pause and express my gratitude to those reporters
and editors who keep me informed about topics I might not think
would be of interest and have taught me about the craft of writing
in the bargain. As I humbly step into the role with each project,
my warm-up strategy is to pick up the paper and read for a bit.
Its like dipping my toes into the water to test its temperature
before plunging in to save myself from the encroaching fire
behind me.
THWAP! Thats the sound at 4 a.m. of The New York Times
hitting the driveway. Sixty-one years later, its a Sunday
delivery that lasts more than all week long.