IT’S A SMALL WORLD AFTER ALL

TERESA STROM HUCHERO NESET MAGALONG KLOTZBACK

It’s a world of laughter
A world of tears
It’s a world of hopes
And a world of fears
There’s so much that we share
That it’s time we’re aware
It’s a small world after all

It’s Sunday and I’m doing the not-work-work kinds of activities I usually do on Sundays (work-work meaning both North Fourth things and writing The Book. Laundry; a big breakfast of fried potatoes, scrambled egg, toast and mango juice with lots of fresh cafe con leche; some lectures on philosophy and schizophrenia from University of Edinburgh and Welsleyan; ice cream; newspapers; laundry continues, nap. One cannot complain.

Every now and then, I feel the need to declare my love of old-fashioned newspapers. Right outside my front door, the New York Times and Albuquerque Journal; the Sunday papers…a pleasure point of the week even under times of so much bad news. You see, for those of you under 30 or 40, the Sunday paper use to be absolute must. It’s how people got the news of everything. My dad, almost always picked up the Minneapolis Star Tribune sometime Sunday or Monday or Tuesday or whenever he managed to get to town. No matter how broke he was or snowy the roads were.

Those papers brought the news. The news in the old sense of the word (news=newly received or noteworthy information, especially about recent or important events)…not made-up propaganda or self-serving blather…but actual information (information=facts provided or learned about something or someone). So what’s a fact? (Fact=a thing that is known to be consistent with objective reality and can be proven to be true with evidence.)  I rely on facts to live my life and, still, the best place to get them is from reputable newspapers—on line or hard copy. Especially a few of the national or international giants such as the NYT, Washington Post, Guardian (U.K.)

This post is called “It’s a Small World” because it is no longer possible for anyone, however ill-informed or Republican to believe we are not all connected. All. Connected. The pandemic of 2020 has irrevocably proven that. (Is it even a little bit possible we’ll soon start considering starvation and bombs and killing the earth as our American problem too…?) Why do I do that…ranting and preaching…so unbecoming.

So, you say, you just want to know about your hood and the virus. That’s all there too…and why I’m subscribing to the local paper again. We. Are. All. Connected.

*So the photo of the day is of my eldest grandchild…a long time ago (like around 29 years). Her mom’s from the Philippines; her dad’s the grandson of a Norwegian immigrant. I wrote an essay about her in 1994 called “Teresa Strom Huchero Neset Magalong Klotzback.” The theme was Small World.

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