My Confession

I have a confession to make today.

I am an addict.

No, it’s not drugs or booze – vomiting and day long headaches seem too big a payoff for the fleeting pleasure of the buzz, not to mention the empty calories that I don’t need.

It’s not sex, either, that apparently being reserved to trim younger men with exceptionally large, ummmm, “bank accounts”. Think Tiger Woods here.

It’s not even food, although I do admit to binging on potato chips when given the opportunity.

After all, every bag is a serving, whether it’s those little dinky lunchbox types that take 3 or 4 to give you a good cholesterol buzz or the big three pound “Family Size” bag of Cool Ranch Doritos, guaranteed to provide indigestion for the 48 hours following.

No, I’m addicted to newspapers. Not news in general, since I find the chaos of 24 hour news channels on television or the internet mind boggling, but the articles contained in newspapers.

I’ve been addicted since childhood.

It used to be just the printed format, electronic versions being unknown until relatively recently. Now, like every junkie, I’ve expanded my delivery method of choice to the traditional backed up by the more intense high brought about by improved delivery systems.

Now it includes the internet versions as well.

I blame it on genetics. My maternal grandfather read the newspaper every day, usually with either his pocket knife or a straight pin in hand.

This wasn’t to inflict injury on anyone but to cut out interesting tidbits to share around either by mail or when he saw the person next. I have vivid memories of sitting on his lap as a small child while he had his wheelchair pulled up to the kitchen table, cutting out snippets. His wallet was always stuffed with clippings.

He passed the addiction to Mom, who, even if they’re travelling, has to have her daily fix. Dad is often sent to the streets in unknown cities where they might be visiting to find a copy of the local rag for her perusal. After 50+ years, he doesn’t even try to avoid the chore any more but instead scopes out newspaper racks whenever they arrive somewhere new.

From the time I began to read, Mom and I were usually the first ones up sitting side by side, she with her coffee, me with a glass of chocolate milk, silently reading the newspaper while the radio played in the background. It is a silent ritual that I follow to this day.

So I come by it honestly. Although originally it didn’t cause much of a disruption in my life or the lives of others – other than the occasional over-zealous sharing of clippings with people who may have only been polite when they first expressed interest in something – it’s getting worse lately.

Most newspapers now have an on-line version. One that invites you to comment about the articles, so that the railing against the world which used to be confined to one’s own home or office is now shared with a broader, sometimes world-wide, audience.

An audience who either wisely agrees with the sage wisdom which I express, or shows their utter stupidity by disagreeing and posting their own insipid remarks.

Addicts seldom have a realistic view of either their problem or how it affects others.

I’m scaling back. I have to do it alone, since there’s not a 12-step program for this, and am starting with baby steps. Only the local newspaper, and it has to go away by 9:00 in the morning (well, except on weekends, when there’s more about which to opine), and I can’t go back to see what’s been posted in response to the wisdom I extol more than once a day.

Otherwise, you run the risk of getting into these flaming internet exchanges, two junkies working to magnify their own high and, like most addicts, needing more and more stuff to get the same feeling.

It’s hard, of course, especially when someone posts a reference to another newspaper that has more information about the topic. It’s right there at my fingertips, waiting to be typed into the search engine and offering an online account for free.

Dealers have often recognized that you create a client base by giving away lots of samples before you begin charging for the product.

The urge to expand beyond the local paper is particularly true as we go into the election season and local papers have already picked the candidates who they will support. Online comments direct one to other papers, in adjacent communities, that offer even more data for a bigger buzz.

Not to mention the opportunity to preach to an entirely new audience at a neighboring paper who might be even more appreciative of my opinions.

As far as addictions go, this one is pretty minor. It doesn't cause me to miss work, I don't have to lie about where I've been or what I've been doing, my health isn't impact and the cost is relatively minor. 

I keep saying I’m going to go cold turkey, stop the subscriptions, delete my profile and never go back. We know, of course, that’s not going to happen since addiction is something that must be fought every single day of a person’s life.

So I fight the battle one day at a time, needle in hand to forcibly wrest the physical proof of the information from the newsprint.

And hope that one day there’s a cure, or a support group, or something to help others like me who are destined to spend their mornings with ink on their hands as they protect their nasty little secret, going off to work after their fix to lead apparently normal lives.