This commenter at Althouse calls the experience of being the first to open the paper in the morrning "sublime." That brought back a happy childhood memory.
As I was growing up, my parents subscribed to both a morning and an afternoon newspapers. But they didn't get the Sunday paper by home delivery.
Instead, because we were all nightowls, my father--usually accompanied by one of the kids--would go to a corner market and pick up a copy of the Sunday paper right after it was delivered to stores on Saturday nights.
It triggered a weekend ritual, the entire family tearing into the thick Sunday edition, sprawled out at different places in the living room, reading, a late movie playing on the TV, as we sipped Coca-Colas and munched on the popcorn my dad had popped.
Sublime. And informative.
Sigh.
No comments:
Post a Comment