2-9-22 – 10:31 a.m.
Time is the enemy. I feel myself decaying. Too much coffee. We’re pretty much unpacked from our move. The neighbors on this street are very private. I wonder what they do behind closed doors. Probably nothing sinister. Probably just watching TV and glued to a screen like the rest of us.
My job requires me to read the news closely. This is a blessing and a curse. I did it anyway, for the most part. The media is a fear machine. Everything is hyped; everything is ‘the worst ever.’ I know this because I work in media. My uncle is like many Americans. He’s caught in the web of tribal hatreds.
Rachel and I spotted this old newspaper box the other night while walking around the neighborhood. I knew I had to take a picture of it. Nowadays, seeing these boxes has become more rare. I mean, just look at how rusted and worn this box looks.
The Philadelphia Inquirer is Philly’s flagship newspaper, and one in which I read growing up and interned at a few times during college. I still subscribe to the Inquirer, but I don’t read the print version. Instead, I read the Inquirer.com, which has been much improved recently. I can’t remember the last time I regularly read a print newspaper – it may have been up to 10 years ago.
There’s a quote often attributed to Ernest Hemingway that I love: “There is no friend as loyal as a book.” Indeed, books are loyal friends and, when times get really tough, I turn to them sometimes more than people.