When I was growing up, we always had several newspapers in our house: The New York Daily News, The Morristown Daily Record, and the Newark Star Ledger. Grandpa would either walk to a local convenience store several blocks away, or when he got older, he would drive “to the paper store” as he liked to call it. I don’t recall having the newspapers delivered as long as he was able to go on his morning outings.
He would return with the papers and his cigarettes. As you all know, during his later years, he tried to hide his smoking from all of us—particularly his grandchildren—but none of you could be fooled, because you always found his cigarette butts hidden around the property.
Dad and I always had our newspapers delivered in every home in each of the five states where we lived. It was not until our local carrier here in South Carolina continued to forget the dates when we altered the schedule during our vacations that we discontinued home delivery of the local paper and switched to e-delivery of The New York Times and The Washington Post.
I was recently in line at the grocery store behind a woman who was a super coupon whiz like Jamie, which then inspired me to pick up the Sunday edition of the local newspaper in the hopes of scoring a pile of coupons. I had no luck with getting many coupons, but my outing had an unexpected surprise. It was like climbing aboard a time machine.
Suddenly I was my father, standing patiently in line with my Sunday paper clutched tightly in my hands. He’s been gone almost 10 ½ years now, but that day, he had returned. It never ceases to amaze me what song or activity will bring him back, if only for a moment. It was a nice memory.