When I was a kid, I loved the newspaper.
Not the local paper, but the one that came in weekly from my parents' hometown. I didn't care about the articles except for the This Week In History stuff, usually so and so from such and such came to visit Mr. and Mrs. What-Ever-Their-Name-Is and their children.
The obituaries were great. Not because I'm morbid, but because you actually got information on who died, not just how old they were and that they were a resident of the town or county. But he built birdhouses in his garage all winter. She was the president of the Women's Club and spearheaded their efforts to knit scarves and mittens for soldiers during World War II. That kind of a thing.
I knew how the grade, middle, and high school teams did against the local opponents. Was able to get just as excited when they did well and wanted to make brownies for everyone when they lost. (Brownies, the universal comfort food.)
And the ads.
My grandfather owned the local department store and I always wanted to know what was on sale and for how much.
We only went every two years and he wouldn't have honored his sales prices at that point, fair is only fair, but I liked to see what he had on offer and how it compared to what was locally available.
I got to live there. Every week. Without having to leave my own home. It was kind of like having a passport without government documentation, a foreign language, or even jet lag.
I can still read their Tribune when I want. Now it is available, like everything else, online.
It just isn't the same.
The world wide web may have made us global in a lot of things, but in this and the downfall of most newspapers, I feel like my village has gotten much, much smaller. My passport has in so many ways been rescinded.