When my husband and I are traveling, we make many stops at grocery and convenience stores looking for local newspapers for Mister Rain. He has always loved reading local papers when we are on a trip, but it has become increasingly difficult to find them as printed publications are mostly relics from a bygone era.
Covering 1,400 driving miles during a week in in Utah, we stopped at multiple places in each town we entered, at least 20 in total. Papers originating from these cities were scarce, although the current edition of the Salt Lake Tribune was plentiful upon our arrival in the state on a Tuesday morning.
After days of striking out, while touring around Salt Lake City before our flight home the next morning, we once again struck out a handful of times on the newspaper front (and back). My husband asked me to see where the Tribune’s office was located. I could only find an address with a suite number, which led me to believe that wasn’t what we needed. We decided to drive by, perhaps an artifact from the past sat outside the building: a newspaper box. As we followed Siri’s directions, Mister Rain had another request.
“Can you check and see what days the paper is published?”
Putting it into my phone, I felt a foreshadowing – a foreboding? When I saw the answer to my query, I paused before looking up and sharing the information.
“Saturdays and Wednesdays.”
We both started laughing.
What you don’t know is that my husband worked for a newspaper for 20 years. Of course, back then his paper printed every day of the week so old dog, new trick and all of that. But still.
“Well, at least now we know,” my crack investigative reporter announced.
I stared at him, incredulously. “Yep, it’s real breaking news. Breaking news because this just may break us up . . .”
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