Take away that designer bag, but give me back my Sunday NY Times!
It’s Sunday morning. I am without my New York Times. I’m experiencing cultural withdrawals. It feels like someone took away my coffee.
I feel empty.
Sure. It’s expensive. A weekend luxury that in this terrifying economic climate feels like an unnecessary one.
My body and my brain tell me otherwise.
Not that I study the truly serious portions of the blessed paper. I’m not a “Week in Review” person or do I even pay much attention to the front page. But, ah, the Sunday Style section, the magazine (sigh), and…the book review section.
I’m nearly in tears.
It’s been about three weeks and the symptoms are not going away. Sure, because there’s no Sunday paper, I am writing this morning, but my words are less informed for the absence of the blue bagged paper roll that greets me or used to every weekend.
Not to mention my contribution to the demise of daily newpapers as we know them. That alone should kick my butt into renewing.
Deborah Solomon’s interview column in the magazine. My fave.
The recipes. Even the ones with meat and things I cannot partake in are so beautifully portrayed. The back page. Sniffle.
My beach bag (I know, sorry snow bounders) is not complete without the three NY Times Sunday sections that I adore. Over the years they have been my trusty companions and I have abandoned them
I almost never open the arts section, I hate to admit, for my reaction of envy. What I’m missing by living in the deep south of suburban Florida is too painful. I get my small doses from NPR so I don’t go completely dumb.
For what the Sunday Times has given me I stand guilty of betrayal. As pricey as it is I cannot bear this void.
I will reach into my shallow pocket and find the money. I hope you haven’t given up your most cherished cultural “food” for this fiscally shaky historic moment.
If the New York Times were to go away like many of the major dailies, I wouldn’t want to feel responsible. Rather, I will contribute to its survival and subsequently my own.
And , how about my family of birds? While I’m at work and they’re listening to classical music on NPR, when they look down at the bottom of their cages, heaven forbid they won’t find the trusty headlines, phottos and stories of the New York Times.
I’m doing it for the birds.
Subscription renewed!
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