A ‘Daily’ Love Letter

Do you recall when the daily newspaper was an important part of life? It was a ritual, it kept us connected with our community and the larger world. It gave us comics and puzzles, coupons, sales notices, and classified ads. Diane Dean-Epps remembers.

When I was in college, right around 1982, print newspapers were still a thing.

A big thing.

And I loved them. I still do.

Heading off to attend school in Sacramento – an hour away from where I was born and raised – meant moving to a bigger town offering an exhilarating array of publications, including two major dailies and numerous specialty papers.

But when I returned for visits, the first thing I’d do was grab one of the many Stockton Record editions that had landed on my parents’ doorstep that week and catch up on the local news. The Record represented home by keeping me connected to my Small Town America, value-rich upbringing in a farming community.

So, there I was, a bright-eyed and bushy-browed college student attending CSUS, thrilled to snag my first broadcasting gig as an intern at the #4 radio station in the #30 radio market.

Funnily enough, newspapers played a large role in this radio role.

That’s where we got our morning drive radio news, dicing up full-meal stories into smaller sound bites for our early morning listeners.

Every day, I would leave my house at three o’clock in the morning to pick up papers. Driving along the dark, deserted streets of downtown Sacramento, it was just me on the hunt for news boxes, people who worked late-night shifts, and unhoused individuals looking for a safe place to sleep.

The Sacramento Bee was always the best “get,” being a daily that delivered daily on the promise of topical, memorable, and relatable stories.

Part of my daily ritual included poring over in-depth stories, rich with analysis, citing reliable sources, showcasing detailed reporting, and representing the very best of journalistic integrity.

On one notable occasion, this integrity culminated in Sacramento Bee reporter Dale Maharidge – along with photographer Michael Williamson – winning the 1990 Pulitzer Prize for their work, “And Their Children After Them.”

The Bee represents the timeline of my growth from being an undergrad studying Journalism, to a developing storyteller, to a teacher-in-training, to a woman beginning her journey as a mom.

In 1994, I moved to Grass Valley, California, where the local newspaper, The Union, was no less important to our community, no less representational of dedicated reporters, and no less instrumental in my own development, this time as a published writer.

Impressions of the daily newspaper

Growing up with the printed version, the format has imprinted itself upon me. Accessing hard copy news ignites my senses. As it turns out, there’s a logical reason for this. Neuroscience and psychological studies have shown we receive a plethora of cognitive benefits from print reading.

Here’s how I make sense of it all.

Sight. There’s an accepted basic format framed in varying column sizes, offering segments of valuable print real estate to advertisers. The reader’s visual expectations are met because statistics show print readers don’t mind seeing the ads, and we know where to find our favorite sections. We can flip back and forth between the pages, revisiting the material at will, as we create a light and lovely breeze.

Hearing. Can’t you just hear that rustling sound of the pages being turned? The sound affects me like ocean waves, relaxing me, slowing it all down. It’s reading time. No multi-tasking or social media-influenced quick scanning.

Smell. Ink possesses a distinctive, strong smell that takes a direct neural path, leading to long-term memory. There’s no mistaking what artifact you’re holding in your hands.

Touch. A physical newspaper IS a touchstone. If you can feel it, it’s real, and by extension, so are the stories that are brought to life. It offers the very tactile experience of folding, unfolding, creasing, un-creasing. And, oh, the power of unfurling a double-page spread to its full capacity.

Taste. We often eat savory treats and slurp down delicious beverages while reading our newspapers. These activities act as a pleasant and powerful sensory-enhanced memory trigger.

Nowadays, inky fingers as a byproduct of reading the paper is more novelty than irritation. The sensory experience that is getting my fingers all smudged up with ink is an annoyance a little like someone you love snapping their gum in your ear.

It bugs you.

Until that person is no longer there. Then you’d give anything for just one more ear-splitting bubble gum pop.

Newspapers aren’t printed seven days a week so much anymore. I miss that delivery schedule. You see, print newspapers don’t matter any less to me simply because they’re not easily accessible. They’re part of my experience, geographically situating me, and serving as a conduit to my memories. They’re part of my story.

They’re part of our story, connecting us to the generations that went before us.

I’ve read newspaper snippets about my father leaving his home in Sebastopol to fly dangerous missions over Germany during World War II, multiple stories describing the weddings of aunts and uncles, and an emotion-inducing piece about the automobile accident my grandparents survived when a drunk driver hit them in a head-on collision.

The good news? You can still find physical copies of newspapers, getting your news the way our foremothers and forefathers intended it: as an indelible – albeit slightly ink-smeared – snapshot in time. You’re just more likely to find this venerated format being published by one of the 5,500 community and weekly newspapers printing in the US, but they’re out there.

And I remain hopeful. As we go to press, I can tell you there are several grassroots movements preventing “news deserts” by reviving local journalism by returning to print. I’m looking forward to reading all about it.

The personal influence of early TV and the daily newspaper

Diane Dean-Epps is a published author and podcaster whose career has offered up a bountiful buffet of opportunities in industries as diverse as media, education, entertainment, and fitness, leading to incredible feats of multi-tasking. This explains her unique ability to speak loudly, grade essays, and deliver a punchline as she assumes the plank position for one minute and 22 seconds.