Last Wednesday I traveled to Chicago to prepare for my mother's life celebration and to begin the lasts legs of closing up the home that she and
my father created in 1963. During this last week, I did not read a newspaper, listen to
NPR, or watch TV news (which I only do when away from home). I did go online to check email, read a few headlines, check a
few blogs. Since this was not a vacation, not a hike in the middle-of-nowhere, this news-blackout became dislocating. It was the lack of newspapers that really disturbed me. Morning coffee facing the computer screen just did not have that languid sense of being lost in a different world; no serendipitous discovery of an item that quirkily caught my eye; no sharing with other people pouring over their section. No sitting back and flipping the page back to reread something for clarity or discussion. I know that all of the above can be done by two people each with their laptops, but I do not find it satisfying. I also know that I cannot read every newspaper in paper form and therefore appreciate being able to read and dip into
foreign papers online. But I so enjoyed
my cup of coffee while perusing the
Seattle P-I and the
New York Times today. My day began with a serenity not found clicking on my keypad.
Blonde Roots by Bernardine Evaristo
