My Paperless Porch

Today I can have me a watch that employs all the wonders of a Univac and much, much more. It can tell me where to go and what to buy and what Aunt Freda in Germany is up to and how far I've walked and how many calories I've burned.

But I can't get a newspaper delivered to my front porch. Like it used to be. For most of my adult life.

I grumbled when they stopped delivering The Plain Dealer every day. But at least, I figured, I was still going to get it Wednesdays, Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays. I still enjoy holding a newspaper in my hands, sitting in my easy chair, and reading what's what.

Yes, I have a tablet, but reading the e-edition on a hand-held device is a tedious task*.

So, when I get a paper newspaper, I relish it. But lately, getting the newspaper has been a chore.

We had one carrier for years and years. He was a gem. I never had to think about the paper showing up on my doorstep at 6 a.m. I could stick my arm out the door and grab it, no fuss, no muss. But for the last several months, getting my newspaper has been an adventure -- one I'd rather do without. When it does come (which, without me calling and complaining to an automated system, is about 75% of the time), it arrives by 8 a.m. and it's tossed onto the driveway in a plastic bag. When it rains, it often sits in a puddle until I retrieve the sodden mess. Some days there have been sections missing. One day this week, I actually watched the guy come up to my porch, place the paper on it, get back in his truck and depart. I was impressed. Until I realized only half of it was there.

I know what some of you are thinking. That I'm focusing on a little thing. That civilization as we know it isn't going to crumble because my newspaper delivery sucks. And, while the neighbors might raise an eyebrow or two, me having to trot down the driveway in my pajamas is really not big deal.

My fear is that the little civilities are getting lost. And that, like the vital bumblebees that are slowly, quietly dying, it is the disappearance of the little things that do us in. Cutting in lines and cutting each other off in traffic. Leaving a measly tip for good service. Watching an old man trying to get his foot up and over a curb without helping. (Something, I am proud to say, my son did NOT do.)

Matt Groening once said something like, "If you keep your expectations tiny, you'll go through life less whiny."

I've lowered my expectations. But the world keeps lowering the bar.

THAT's why I'm whiny.

But, just for today...I will be glad my newspaper arrived, safe and dry, all pages present. And I will go forth and read Sally Forth.

And I wish all of you a Happy Fourth!

*This is for my sister, Denise. (Inside joke!)