Ed. — From the Sunday, Aug. 13, print edition.
VIRGINIA BEACH — On Sunday mornings and weekday evenings of my early childhood, my father sat at the kitchen table and read the newspaper, his left ankle upon his right knee, his thigh supporting the weight of the printed word.
Often, he would read aloud a headline or a portion of a story to my mother, who, in memory of such exchanges, always stood at the stove or the sink, her back to my dad while he read.
In this manner, they would discuss local stories of interest or concerning national news. Eventually, my father would hand the comic strip pages to us kids and grow silent working the crossword puzzle. When the family news hour finally concluded, my mother would take the spent pages to the fire bin to be used as kindling during the week.
The carefully crafted, print-pressed and door-to-door delivered newspaper served more than one purpose in our family, and I’ll bet in many others.
Nevertheless, it was – and still is – our community’s mainstay.
My father’s first job outside the family dairy business was delivering newspapers.
My first job was the same.
I can still recall the sound the heavy paper bundles made as they were dropped onto the porch, where I picked up my daily route. I loved the smell of those fresh-from-the-press pages, the way the ink stained my fingers and the way news seemed to flash and whisper intelligence with the breeze.
I folded each paper with reverence, secured it with a rubber band, and loaded it into my newspaper satchel to amble my neighborhood, delivering the day’s reports to the people in my hometown.
Most of my route’s subscribers were excited to see me arrive. In fact, many waited at their doors for my delivery, timing their dinners to their paper’s arrival and chastising me if the evening edition was late. Others told me that while they would never cancel their subscription, they wondered why I couldn’t deliver good news more often.
That perspective about the news is one reason for so many canceled print news subscriptions in recent years. The convenience of digital news is another. Interestingly, despite the dire warnings, the print newspaper has not yet gone the way of the dinosaur. It’s struggling, but, like the printed book and brick-and-mortar bookstore, print news is also experiencing a renaissance.
In a recent CBS Sunday Morning segment, Ted Koppel explained that “over 70 million Americans now live in what is known as a news desert,” with little or no access to local journalism. Lacking sources of reliable news and scrutiny of local officials, Koppel explains, “can lead to the spread of disinformation and corruption.”
This is why some areas have worked to breathe life back into the printed page. These news organizations have become relevant to their communities by emphasizing and supporting regional story collaborations, small-scale local investigative reporting, cultural critique and community coverage.
Last month in The Independent News, J.D. “Farmer John” Wilson wrote, “Sometimes contentious ideas are discussed … but these issues need to be aired and discussed in a public forum.”
Once the engine of advertising, newspapers now often survive through family effort, individual dedication and community interest. It’s not glamorous or lucrative. But keeping the presses rolling is worthwhile to all of us. A good newspaper is one of the best ways for a community to stay connected and accountable.
Like a book in my hand, something about the printed newspaper page brings the story close in a way that digital versions do not. When we hold a paper in our hands, we hold a piece of history dating back hundreds of years to the first moveable type printing press. It’s as though we are conversing with the past, with those who populate current stories and those who share them.
That sense of urgency to get the story out and to tell it straight still exists in the pressed pages we hold today.
Digital newspapers are fine. Many of us rely on them for news on demand. Yet I still prefer the ink on my fingers and the spread of news across my lap on a Sunday morning.
The author is a former Virginia Beach Planning Commissioner and college professor. Reach her at leejogger@gmail.com.
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