The Washington Post

20090702_wapo_560x375We have been on summer hiatus.  Hanging out, writing, drinking decaf, going places, not going places, trying to enjoy the hot days of summer. And now,  upon our return to the city of Washington D.C., after a week in Michigan, and a few days down South, the Washington Post has been sold.  Amazing.

I could speak on this from many angles.  I used to serve the Washington Post in law school to get gas money for my car. My parents used to read the Washington Post. My mother still works the crossword puzzle every morning.  I wrote for the Washington Post. I am personal friends with many of its celebrated writers and editors, many of whom no longer work there.

I mostly think about my writings which are now owned by a guy named Jeff Bezos of Amazon. I wrote book reviews, commentary, and feature articles for the Style section.

So many good writers and editors helped me out and got me great clips. Jabari Asim. Marcia Davis. Chris Lehmann. Wil Haygood, the legend, I know well. I know Ron Charles.  Jeff Morley who worked for OUTLOOK tried to get my commentary published but it never worked out. Natalie Hopkinson helped me get a great piece on Dunbar High School published.  I am probably leaving people out; if so, my apologies.

My most vivid memories are my father reading the commentary page and arguing with it. William Raspberry. Carl Rowan. Novak and Evans. Great stuff. I used to watch him argue with the page and said, I want to be published in that paper. I made it there many times. Not enough, but many. If the Post called me now and said, write a piece on this, I would do it.

When I served the Post in law school as a paper boy, I would finish my route and then ride downtown and buy up all of the old newspapers from the day before that hadn’t been bought. The Baltimore Sun. The Miami Herald. The New York Daily News. Any newspaper. I wanted to ink on my hands. I would then head home, buy orange juice and some butterscotch krumpets and read the newspaper and get ready for law class later that morning.

I don’t know what will become of the Post. I am sure newspapers are pretty much done anyway.  If this sale of the Washington Post to the digital WALMART doesn’t convince everyone that the print era is over and this is the digital era, nothing will. I will still read the paper as much as possible. It is such a part of my world.  When I heard it was sold, I could picture my parents sitting at the kitchen table reading the Post. My father had toast and grapefruit. My mother was eating a boiled egg. My father was reading Carl Rowan. My mother was asking him a crossword question; he was yelling at the newspaper.

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