Yet More on the Disappearance of Newspapers; or, Welcome to Spring Training!

I went out this morning to snag The Oregonian from its usual pitch somewhere across the front drive area, but it was nowhere to be found. It was a lovely, solid gold morning. The car windows were a bit frozen still, but the blue and yellow sky was promising the answer e. e. cummings suggested the earth provides to the “how often” questions posed by the “prurient philosophers…,” “science prodded…,” and “religions…squeezing…”: “thou answerest them only with spring,” cummings said.

So I took his answer and coffee cup and sauntered off into the back yard to soak up some morning rays. The grape I had moved yesterday from the back fence to the old patio looks like it likes its new home – more sun!

After a few Thoreauvian moments spent contemplating the grape, the sun, the greens, blues, and yellows of the fine print spring morning, I went back inside to report to Susan the disappearance of the newspaper. She of course, in her offline logic, accused me of cancelling it. I did not cancel it. I like the newspaper.

Susan tried the phone to circulations or delivery or somebody, got busy signals, but then, looking out the nook window, exclaimed, “There’s our newspaper!” “Where?” “On the car window!”

“Wow, what a pitch,” I said, “and Spring Training is underway!”


What we will miss when newspapers disappear

Where Richard Rodgriguez meets Bartleby, the Scrivener


  1. Deborah the Closet Monster says:

    It was reference to “Oregon” that caught me, but this was a fun post to read even apart from mention of my home state. :)

    1. Joe Linker says:

      Thanks for reading and commenting, Deborah. Oregon not my home state, and still miss the solid gold weekends of the South Bay, but have been here longer now than anywhere else. Not easy playing baseball up here in the spring – too wet. Soon, though, and we’ll get the whiffle balls and bats out. Joe

  2. ADA says:

    I like this post . Wondered how you were tying newspapers to spring training .

  3. Reminds me of an old friend who was constantly looking for her glasses when they were – guess where. I’m getting like this myself :)
    I’m intrigued by the term ‘offline logic. :)

    1. Joe Linker says:

      Hi, Ashen! Thanks for reading and commenting. Yeah, I don’t know how I missed it! Was looking down, looked under the car, walked right by the window twice, never saw it. Interesting. A man sees what he wants to see, and disregards the rest, or something like that, Dylan said, or maybe he said a man hears…. Anyway, “offline logic”: Susan’s a hardcopiest, or a hardcopier. Only “offline” would one even think to “cancel,” since the newspaper doesn’t require subscription (and therefore cancellation) online. A bit obscure, I guess, but there you have it. Trust all’s well! Joe

  4. ~mimo~ says:

    a really fun post to read :)

  5. Kevin Linker says:

    Hi Joe,
    Fun to read,
    Reminds me of my own paper route days!
    Take care

    1. Joe Linker says:

      Hey, Kev! Thanks for reading and commenting. Yeah, remember, you had to “porch” some of the papers, which took a sidearm pitch with just the right spin. In those days, the papers came flat, a big pile dropped in the driveway, and you had to fold them in thirds, slip the rubber band over, and sometimes the rubber band would break, the paper in mid flight, and the paper would explode all over someone’s yard. Here, now, the paper routes are, comparatively, big business. They come so early in the morning I rarely see them anymore. They drive up the block in a car, pausing while someone hops out to pitch to two or three houses, the morning still dark, then move on. Throughout the rainy season, the papers are slipped into plastic bags. When the dry weather hits, back to the rubber bands. But what about that grape! Take care, Joe

  6. Joseph’s first year in juniors, and 90 ft bases! All our throws are coming up short too!

  7. Great comments. Enjoyed the spring training! thanks

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