Latest Sacrilege

When I think about my grandfather, I see him sitting in his easy chair reading The New York Times. He always wore white cotton gloves when he handled the newspaper because he was allergic to the inky residue. If you asked him a question while he was reading, he'd peer over the tops of his glasses and shoot you a look that said this better be good; you're interrupting me. If you asked him what he was reading, he always said the Obituaries. He'd been an actuary with the Equitable Life Assurance Company, and reading the obits had been part of his job. Or so he said. I think he enjoyed the little story each life summation told.

My grandfather would no doubt be shocked to pick up the Times today, and not just because he wouldn't need to wear those little white gloves anymore. Newsprint ain't what it used to be. No, he'd be surprised by the content, I think. Newspapers try to be most things to most people these days, and the Times is no different. I still read the paper on line every day (or parts of it), but last week I did the unthinkable: I canceled delivery of the Sunday Times.

The customer service rep couldn't believe it either, offering to halve my subscription price for 6 months and suggesting that if I didn't have time to read the entire paper on Sunday, I had time during the week. That's when I got a little testy and told her she had no idea how much time I had to read during the week. As I was writing this post, I received a telephone call from the Times confirming my cancellation and reiterating the special offer. Thanks, but no thanks.

It's the end of an era. If I move back to the New York metro area, I'm sure I'll subscribe to the hometown rag. For now, I'm sticking to the electronic version. That'll be the only version there is one of these days.