Mornings

The blue plastic bag with the New York Times and the Wall Street Journal is there in the driveway each morning, having been tossed from an anonymous vehicle that simultaneously does a 180 before speeding away. These papers have been my early morning read since moving to my home here in 1978. In fact, I grew up with the Times, and carried a clipping in my wallet for years with the logo “All the News That’s Fit to Print,” which I found intriguing. My first exposure to the Times was in Mr. McCormick’s homeroom at Ben Franklin High School in the mid-1950s. The paper was available free of charge then to introduce us to a viewpoint other than Gannett’s Times Union that originated in Rochester, my hometown.

These days, digital versions available on cell phones and computers are convenient for breaking news, but I still find the non-current news analysis, the book review, and the style section more pleasurable to read on the printed page. The hefty Sunday paper is my morning breakfast companion. When traveling, I always ask the hotel front desk for the papers to be delivered first thing in the morning, along with coffee service on a tray, which is situated somewhat perilously beside me as I read in bed. Abroad, I seek out the Times international edition. Recently, I have started reading the Financial Times, headquartered in London, for a British perspective on U.S. affairs.

Today, I finished the paper at noon, on a quiet Sunday in the Hamptons. My usual kosher deli in Boynton Beach, Florida, is too far away, so I find one an hour and a half “up island,” and I am off.