Hey kids. That’s right, kids. Because I just discovered how old I am.
Before I dig into the topic at hand, let’s travel back a few years. Ah, college.
Now, I’ve been a writer since my junior year in high school. So, I’ve been writing for 10 years. In those 10 years, I’ve changed a lot as a writer. However, I’m still stuck on old school methods of journalism.
I still call people on the phone to set up interviews. I still perform interviews in person. And I always, always take notes during an interview. I have, and hopefully, will never use a tape recorder.
I like to think that these classic methods keep me a good journalist (among other things, of course).
In these 10 years, I’ve also heard and joked about many of the stereotypes that come with being a writer. The newsboy caps, collecting pens, being obsessed with Steno pads, etc.
And some of these, yes, I’ve acquired. I am a massive coffee drinker and I love to read. But these are things I would love whether I was a writer or not.
Anyway, in college, I really felt it was my responsibility to keep up on the news and to read good writing as much as I could. So, I subscribed to the Sunday issue of The New York Times.
Every Sunday, I would get up, get the paper from my doorstep, make a big breakfast, a pot of coffee, and I would sit on the floor all day and read the paper.
And yes, I knew this made me sort of a dork, but it was one of my favorite days of the week.
After a semester of that, I got a full time job, on top of school, and never found time to read the paper like I did before. And so, the paper sat in stacks.
I had to cancel my subscription.
But now! Now I live in my dreamy apartment and I have so missed my Sundays with the Times. However, you have to have a card to get into my building. So, I wondered, if I subscribe, will the paperboy be able to deliver it to my door or will he just throw it outside my building?
I asked my dad this question, as he once lived in a high-rise with the same security.
“Oh, the security guard let the paper guy in,” he told me.
“Well shit,” I said. I wasn’t fancy enough to have a security guard.
“Just look into the hall in the mornings and see if anyone else is getting a paper,” he told me. “But really, you should probably get with it, Lucky. It’s time to get an iPad and read it on there.”
“Hell no! I refuse to succumb to technology over the printed word!”
It’s true. Reading the newspaper on the computer just isn’t the same. I want to hold it, I want to clip the articles, I want to weave it between my fingers just right so I can hold it with one hand, coffee mug in the other.
I know, I’m passionate. Don’t get me started on e-readers (I know I’m going to be old and gray; the only bitch on the block with a bookshelf).
Even though my 52-year-old dad might be up on technology, I refused to believe that everyone was. So, I marched my ass over to the leasing office and posed my question.
“I’d like to get a newspaper subscription, but I was wondering…how would the paperboy get inside?”
The lady at the desk was silent…
“You know, I will have to research that! No one has ever asked that!”
“Oh, ok…let me know!”
I walked away feeling old. I know most people that live in my building are young, but really? No one gets a paper?
I know, I know, when the cassette came out, everyone thought 8-tracks would never be, yet records are still around and I don’t think books will ever cease existence…but, wow! I am a little shocked.
I mean hey, if it comes down to it, I’ll walk to Starbucks and grab my Sunday paper. Lord knows I love the coffee.