After the blizzard of 2022, my Sunday New York Times landed home.
In my late teens and throughout my adult life, I loved finding the blue bag with its black letters that held my Sunday edition of The New York Times. Sure, my fading eyesight made searching for the paper tougher as the years went by, but I still managed to hike up steep snowbanks, sweep my hands across the porch, and crisscross the lawn in the hope of spotting the familiar blue bag.
When I lost the rest of my eyesight in the year 2000, a year or two after that crashing upset, I resumed my activity! That’s all my news fit to … print. Or braille!
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