I love the internet. Really I do. I could expound on the ways that I use it at every hour of the day. I panic if I don’t have my iPhone on me at all times. I love the connection to the world.
But then, I get a glimpse of our former ways and I revel in it. Last week a reporter from the Seattle Times came out to the farm to interview me about cheese making. We spoke for a bit, the next day a photographer came out to take some photos; the next day a videographer. I knew that there would be an article coming out sometime this week on the small farms of Vashon, but I really didn’t know when.
Early this morning I received the first email from people who had read the morning paper. I did what I have done a few times over the years, I hopped in my truck and drove to the grocery store to buy a paper. Not yet showered, not having finished my morning chores, I got to the store soon after it opened.
I bought a few copies of the morning paper, quickly thumbing through them in line, hoping to see how it looked. Then, in the parking lot, my dog bored in the passenger seat, I opened up the Times to read the article. Most pleased, I drove back to the farm to a complete review.
I enjoy this. The early morning paper buy. The small stack of copies. They will go into the box in the attic with others from the past three decades. In the dim winter months I often paw through the box, reminded of past stories, past photographs printed in this paper or that.
I just don’t get the same excitement from the web. I don’t get up early to see if a web site includes a mention, a photograph, a video of me or my work. I might notice the mention days or weeks or months later, with little fanfare. I never print out a blurb or a link or a blog post. That box in the attic has little added to it in the past half decade.
I enjoyed the early morning parking lot read especially today. I get a big smile on my face, even if my dog Daisy would have preferred to stay in bed a few minutes longer.