Mahogany

Felicia Whatley

Newspapers

The crispy, crinkle fresh smell…the blackened fingertips after I’ve simmered in the headlines and smeared into the rest of news, arts, opinions, then sports…

Is it nearing the end of a newspaper era? I was so saddened to hear how bad the newspaper is doing with so many closing, chapter 11s, and staff loosing their jobs. Eight out of the nations top 50 newspapers are expected to close in the next 18 months according to Time.

I have been publishing for 12 years and for awhile, held stacks of the original papers my pieces published in, before the stacks became ten, 20, 50, over 100 articles. Then I finally broke down and cut the articles out and displayed them in photo albums. There are still about ten articles that didn’t either syndicated or just lost in someone else’s archive that I hope to someday find and put in my collection. But if the hard copy is gone, its gone; they are lost forever. Just finding it online is ok, but not the same.

It just isn’t going to be the same anymore. I love the way the newspaper has turned yellow and aged. It gives the news story a look of history and depth. The print-outs won’t even fit the same in my book. How sad.

            And how will you read the newspaper? Will we all develop carpel tunnel syndrome because everything we do- shopping, school working, dating, reading “newspapers”, reading periodicals, stock trading, and communication with friends and family will all be done via the internet?

            What ever happened to cuddling up in a big easy chair in front of the fire on a Sunday morning and reading the funnies. Would you even read that part anymore? Or would that moment with the calico cat at your feet be lost?

            One of my favorite military veterans, I kid you not, reads the entire newspaper cover-to-cover, while driving himself to work. Can you believe that? He has been doing this for many years. I think I’m going to start calling him Mr. Bean. That is such an insatiable talent I would hate to take that away from him.

            I didn’t know what I wanted to be when I grew up, but I do now. I want to be a print journalist, one that writes for real newspapers. It is great that it can be viewed online as well, but I want a hard copy so I can proudly smudge my finger tips from one section to the next and lament over the articles I worked so hard to articulate proudly share with the world.

In another 12 years, I hope there are still publications holding on to their roots. That is where you will find me grounded. I will be learning the new waves of technology, but catering to a sophisticated crispy, hot off the press, sticky ink, piece of love.