As long as I make my deadlines, I can do all the chores usually reserved for Saturdays and Sundays, any day of the week I please. As long as I make all my deadlines, I can go for a walk, do pilates, visit with a friend, have a manicure or read a book at any time during the day. Unless I have a client meeting, I never have to ‘dress for success’. I can work in jeans, sweats and, for that matter, my jammies. But despite all the freedom I have, I do look forward to Sundays; and my delivery of the Sunday New York Times.
My parents had it delivered, so it’s a ‘ritual’ I grew up with.
In winter, when I become a recluse, there’s nothing I like better than collecting it from the mat outside my door and getting back into bed — where I stay for hours — with a huge mug of tea (don’t make coffee at home) and the entire newspaper, spread out all around me. Not the easiest thing to do when you have cats, mind you. They don’t like being ignored — even when they’re ignoring you. So they crawl between you and the paper, or lay down on the very section you’re trying to pick up and read, or sit on your head, or start kneading your arm. Whatever it takes to get your focus back where it belongs — on them.
I must admit, though, that in summer, when the weather is so beautiful, I’m guilty about spending the time indoors, let alone in bed. So sometimes I read the paper on my balcony — if it’s not too windy. And sometimes I’ll take the Book Review and Magazine to Starbucks and read them while I enjoy a cup of my preferred blend. And then when I’m done I leave them there for someone else to enjoy.
Sometimes I have to read it in spurts, because I have plans. I’m more social in warm weather. But whether I read it in one go or, at various times throughout the day, I have a routine — as I think many Times readers have. My mother, for example, always made a beeline for the crossword puzzle. My father, who often went to New York for business, would reach for the Arts section first, to check out what was happening on Broadway.
And me? Well first of all, whether I’m in bed or sitting at a table, I don’t keep it in order. Or read it in order. I lay it out all around me. Then where do I start? With the Styles section. If that makes me shallow, what can I say. Guilty as charged. I read it all, including all the wedding announcements. Why, I don’t know. It’s not like I know any of those people who are getting married. I particularly like Bill Cunningham’s two columns. They are pure escape for me. I save Travel for last. Of all the travel publications out there, and there are a lot of them, The New York Times Travel Section is my favourite. I find the stories very inspiring; and very often, the trips I want to take are, at least in part, because of an article in that section. I usually save it, as well — much to the chagrin of my cleaning lady.
After Styles, I read Sunday Business. And very often something I’ve read there gives me an idea for either a blog of my own or, for a client. Then I go back to the first section where, again, I read everything — including the obits. And again, I have no idea why. I don’t know any of those people. What is interesting, though, is that often, when someone well-known or highly-regarded in a particular community passes, friends and colleagues put tributes after the death notices. I’ve never seen that in any Canadian newspaper. It’s a lovely thing to do; and I’m sure it means a lot to those left behind.
Then it’s on to the Review and Arts. What I very rarely read is Sports — and when I do, I read only the coverage on specific events I’m interested in — like the Olympics, or the Masters. Otherwise it’s straight to the blue box (recycling). Which is exactly where the Sports Section of the Toronto Globe & Mail goes every morning, as well.
My Sundays wouldn’t be the same without the New York Times. Which reminds me. Today’s Sunday. Enough of all this writing. You’ll have to excuse me. I have some reading to do.