I remember reading about it in the newspaper

I remember when growing up in my small hometown, there was a daily newspaper that had everything I wanted to know about what was happening both at home and far away. There is no daily newspaper anymore.

It was a time when all the news was in one place. All I had to do was read it from front to end. Now, I have to go find the news.

I remember when the local stories were about weddings. They had pictures of young 20-somethings wearing black and white, veils and flowers. The newspaper quoted their jubilant parents and told us of their next plans as they started a family and readied for a bright future.

I remember when reporters would add a little more color to the local coverage than they do today. They would speculate and make assumptions about why someone was moving away or closing a business. They said what we were thinking and it made us feel like what we were reading was a conversation among friends.

I remember when the obituaries said everything you thought they would say about that person you knew all your life. Growing up in a small town, you know everyone, even if you don’t know everything about them.

I remember that holding a newspaper and cup of coffee was what you did because that’s what your parents did, and that’s what your grandparents did, and it felt like the thing you were supposed to do.

There are things that the next generation won’t do. Things that I did and things that those who came before me did. Simple things.

Like reading wedding announcements in a newspaper because they were important enough to make the local news.

We all have our “I remember when…” moments. Time passes and so do our traditions. I remember when you could put two coins in the newspaper box and trusted yourself to only get one copy of the day’s issue. That’s how society worked then. We had to trust each other to only get one copy.

I remember when people said things like “he was in the paper today,” and “did you see what was in the paper?” Not in the news. In the paper.

I remember waking up the next morning. Climbing into grandpa’s old-man, boat sized car, and heading to McDonald’s. He would get his coffee and Egg McMuffin. Grab more sugars and creamers than he needed. Meet up with his group or regulars, and hold his half-folded newspaper while talking about what made the paper that day.

I remember all of this because it meant something to read it in print. In the newspaper.