My memories are of stopping to read the paper, associating newspaper reading as a break from everything.
You found a peaceful, solitary spot to read in, whether it be the kitchen table, at a restaurant, the library, everything else went on hold while you took the time to read.
A newspaper gave you everything, too, with its range of coverage, comics, and puzzles. It was brain food in a way the Internet is not; the Internet is bite sized, empty calories, driven in part by the frenetic manner of consumption.
Newspapers, once printed, were never in a hurry, they were leisure. Books are read with a destination in mind; newspapers took a meandering path.
My memories place reading the paper in sunny spots, too, the pinnacle haze of nostalgia, the sun slanting in the window just so.
The Sunday papers were the ultimate indulgence - an almost day long pause, at least the full morning devoted to all the expanded sections. We took the Register & the Times and it was always fun the breadth between the two on Sundays.
Moving to Belfast I kept up the Sunday tradition and Anthony really spoiled me every week bringing in a plethora of broadsheets. A real pleasure, newspapers were.
When I think of my dad, one of the images that immediately comes to mind is him sitting at his table in the garage, with the paper, some magazines, and books surrounding him.
I'd love to sit in that garage again today, reading the paper, stealing some time.
My memories place reading the paper in sunny spots, too, the pinnacle haze of nostalgia, the sun slanting in the window just so.
The Sunday papers were the ultimate indulgence - an almost day long pause, at least the full morning devoted to all the expanded sections. We took the Register & the Times and it was always fun the breadth between the two on Sundays.
Moving to Belfast I kept up the Sunday tradition and Anthony really spoiled me every week bringing in a plethora of broadsheets. A real pleasure, newspapers were.
When I think of my dad, one of the images that immediately comes to mind is him sitting at his table in the garage, with the paper, some magazines, and books surrounding him.
I'd love to sit in that garage again today, reading the paper, stealing some time.
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| ⏩Carrie Twomey hates Illinois Nazis (just like the Blues Brothers) |
