When I was a young reporter, I couldn't get my hands on enough newspapers. I read most of the daily rags in North Carolina, where much of my journalism career took place, and even subscribed to a few out-of-state papers.
On top of that, I chased down two or three stories a day for the papers I worked on, relishing the sight of my bylines.
Now, with instant online access to news and everything else, and having left journalism long ago, my appetite for newsprint has dropped sharply. That's not to say I'm not reading newspaper content. I probably absorb more news now than ever before. But most of it's on the computer screen and in abbreviated form.
I do retain a subscription to the Orlando Sentinel, although lately I've been questioning the wisdom of keeping it. The most satisfying aspect of newspaper delivery for me is seeing my kids get excited when I ask them in the morning, "Who wants to get the paper?" They love walking outside with me for this silly ritual, and I'm reluctant to give it up.
The inky newspaper will die in due time, I figure. It already has in many ways. Makes me a little misty eyed.
A selection of Guitar Dad's old newspaper pieces can be found on this page.