On Sundays I read the New York Times, almost cover to cover. I skim the travel section (we were delighted when the little column on hotels featured The Wit in Chicago — after we’d stayed there!), and the sports, and then Business, the front section, the week in review, sunday styles, arts and letters, and the magazine. I usually don’t get to the book review until later in the week, but I do the crosswor puzzle, and the acrostic every other week, after dinner . It’s not all I do on Sundays; I also do some laundry and iron while watching the morning political shows, and yesterday we took a walk, too, since it was a beautiful, classic fall day here. But it’s certainly a major part of my Sunday, and one of my favorite rituals.
Now, I’m sure I’d never read as much of the New York Times as I do now if I had to read it on line. Is this because I’m old, because I came to the news before computers were a major part of everyone’s life? Or is there something intrinsic to a paper newspaper that makes reading it a joy? I don’t know, but I worry that the day will come when the paper won’t exist in paper form anymore.