I love you, New York Times, you're perfect, don't change
My finger is at the ready but I just can't press the button. It's time. Now. Really. I've been contemplating this moment for quite a while and just haven't been able to bring myself to do it. Now, however, the hour has struck. I can no longer have my smudgy friend over for breakfast.
My love affair with the Sunday New York Times began in the previous century. I grew up seeing my father read first the headlines, then go immediately to the travel section. I devoured Arts and Leisure, style section and book review. I ignored the crossword puzzle; Monday's version was more fun to fill out.
During my starter marriage, reading the Sunday NYT at the in-laws was verboten. Everything in the house was white; my mother-in-law was terrified ink-stained fingers would touch her precious bed sheets.That nightmare ended when I divorced my 'wasbund' and settled in Colombia, my parents' country of origin, to work in telenovelas. I started dating a dashing TV star who subscribed to the New York Times Sunday edition. Reading about the hottest new play and who was wearing what along Fifth Avenue while sipping a cafe con leche with a side order of pandeyucas at the local coffee shop was like manna from heaven. I could continue being a New Yorker, three thousand miles from home.
The boyfriend didn't last but now I had the paper magically arrive on my doorstep. The Sunday habit continued when I moved to Miami, even though I didn't always have time to read it.
I moved to Los Angeles last summer and this year I tearfully called the subscription office. "Hi, I'm so sorry but I'm going to have to let go of my subscription to the New York Times. I've moved to LA and I can no longer subscribe to the Sunday edition. "I felt I needed to explain this betrayal before the ultimate authority, the New York Times employee on the other end.
"Miss Uribe, we have a special going on, just the digital edition where you would pay a lot less. Would you be interested?"I was silent for exactly 1.6 seconds.
"Yes! Sign me up!" I yelled and breathed a sigh of relief.