I used to skip school and hang out at the downtown library. On the top floor was the periodical room filled with old magazines and microfilm and microfiche of old newspapers. I spent hours panning over newspapers and magazines from the year I was born, thinking there was some clue to who I was, hidden in them.
My son recently sent me Eighty Years of the New Yorker magazine on DVD and 50+ years of MAD magazine on DVD. It’s sort of like being back in the periodical room but now I never have to leave or make up any excuses.
