Newsstands? October 25, 2007

I majored in journalism in undergrad, I worked for an association of electronic publishers, and am currently getting my master’s in International Media. I have heard plenty of people talk about how newspapers will become obsolete. Apparently, even someone who loves to read and write as much as I do is part of this trend.

Growing up, the Philadelphia Inquirer appeared on my parents’ driveway at the crack of dawn every day. When I was 9, I faithfully clipped articles from the sports section after the Phillies won important games. I’m glad I saved them, as that was the year they went to the World Series. When they made the playoffs this year, my mom saved the sports section for me. I still love the souvenir, but the interesting difference is that the newspaper is not where I originally read about the games. In the 14 years since the Phillies last made the playoffs, a lot has changed.

I have a writing assignment for class tomorrow, for which I am supposed to compare the coverage of a major event in a newspaper with the same story online. This will be the first time I purchase the hard copy of a newspaper – any news I read is online (unless I am at my parents’ house). It also occurs to me that a stamp costs more than a newspaper. Interesting.

I need to go ask one of my co-workers where I can find the closest newsstand…

Sam I Am October 10, 2007

Last week, Elizabeth Edwards spoke on campus about living with breast cancer. She talked about maintaining your dignity while wearing a paper nightgown with no back, and feeling lonely when your hair falls out in the shower, even though your wonderful husband is at your side for every doctors visit and chemotherapy session. The thousands of e-mails and cards she received always cheered her up. She felt connected to people worldwide, young and old, daughters, mothers, husbands. She loved the yellow, faded cards that looked like they were sent by a widower who had saved all of his wife’s old cards.

Elizabeth’s final thought hit me the hardest. She lives her life every day, as normally as possible, and does everything she loves, in spite of her cancer. The cancer is part of her, yes, but it does not define her. It is not all of her. Her closing words:

“I am Elizabeth. I am married to John. I have four wonderful children. I have blue eyes that are beginning to gray, like my hair. I like tomato sandwiches. I have cancer.”

I am Suzie. I love listening to the Red Hot Chili Peppers and sliding into 3rd base whenever I play softball (and sometimes kickball). I am incredibly close to my brother. Despite the fact that I am half Egyptian and she is blond, my best friend and I tell everyone that we are biological sisters. I have ADD.