It was a long Monday back at work (remember, I am an editor who writes a lot of stories for a weekly newspaper/daily website), although a good day, when all is said and done. I like newspaper work. Within the sameness of daily schedules and deadlines, there is the newness of events and people. And, there is always the challenge of telling what happens, or doesn’t happen, in a true and engaging way. We newspaper/online writers don’t always succeed, of course. Still, the goal is worth the effort.

But, newspapers are sad stories themselves these days. Even my own children, who admit to loving to read newspapers, especially around a kitchen table with friends and family, don’t buy them on a regular basis. They cry poverty. They get the New Yorker (gift from the parents), and love it. One son gets the Sunday New York Times. In general, they read online.

Which is good. But, those colleagues of mine who have forgotten their own youth think this means no one wants to read newspapers at all anymore. How many of them subscribed to newspapers in their 20s?

This is a ramble. I will cut it short by leaving with another of my poems. After all, it seems no one is reading this anyway, so if I seem egocentric, so what. Please go to Introducting…, which is a bookmarked title at the top of the page, to see some other little offering from a tired old woman. (Well, not so old. I’m just trying to get used to the idea of being old, or seeming to be old, since there are more and more people out there in the wide world who see me as old.)