the new york times

When we lived in Connecticut, we first subscribed to the Hartford Courant. While the Courant offered news about Connecticut, we never really liked it. I realize they have been awarded a number of Pulitzer Prizes over the years, but overall, the publication was generally unimpressive. As an alternative, we soon opted out for the New York Times.

I truly learned to love this newspaper. (The Sunday edition was always "packed" and was so thick and heavy, it would invariably elicit an involuntary grunt as I lifted it from the door mat to transport it into the house.) It not only featured the insightful writing of it's amazing cache of reporters, but also provided entertainment and information unavailable elsewhere. For instance, one memorable article dealt with the proper methodology of getting ketchup to pour from the stubborn Heinz glass bottles (now being overshadowed by plastic squeeze bottles). In case you were wondering, you tilt the bottle at a slight angle and tap on the "57" imprinted on the neck with the blade of your hand, like a karate chop. Another article dealt with the best bottled water in the world, with the author journeying to the spot where it sprang forth from the ground. (Panna was the water selected as the best of the best.)

Why am I writing about this? I have just loaded the New York Times app on my iPod Touch. At no cost, I can now access articles from the Times daily! I can rekindle (no pun intended here) my romance with this publication (well, I could have at any time, but again, I'm really a cheapskate as I've told you previously) once more. True, it doesn't have that same tactile quality of having the actual newspaper in my hands, but let's face it, these are modern times. Advances such as Amazon's Kindle (do you get the unintended pun now?) will undoubtedly deprive of us of this pleasure, hopefully saving trees and replenishing the oxygen in our environment. And besides, it is the content that is important here. I can now delight in the publication I enjoyed so much during my days in Connecticut. And who knows what valuable knowledge I will once again be privy to? Perhaps an article about how to effectively get those capons out of that damn obnoxious skinny little bottle . . .