When I had to quickly find a new place to live because my apartment house was deemed unsafe, I settled on a building where my beloved daily newspaper cannot be delivered to my apartment door.  So after more than 60 years of reading The New York Times with my morning coffee, I have become only an online subscriber. 

It’s just not the same.

So, on Sunday morning I put my coat on over my sweat pants, and ventured out in 19-degree temperature at 7:30 a.m. to find a real NYTimes in Harvard Square.

I failed. 

As I approached my apartment building empty-handed, I saw a NYTimes blue plastic bag sailing through the air from across the street to the steps in front of my building.  I ran across the street, and asked the thrower if it was safe to deliver to the outside of the building, and she said she has been successfully leaving the paper on the street outside the front door for 15 years.

I asked her if she had an extra copy of today’s paper that I could buy.  She handed me one, and she wouldn’t take money for it.  I told her I would subscribe to home delivery again.

I’m still smiling…