I’ve been reading the New York Times since elementary school, spurred on by my
mother. She was an avid Times reader from as long as I can remember. As a
stay-at-home mom, she was always extremely supportive in my education. Every
morning before school, while we were waiting for the school bus to pull up to
our hours, she would present a folio of articles that she had cut out from the
previous day’s newspaper. We would sit next to each other at our dining room
table, which overlooked our driveway, and I’d ask questions as I’d read. As I
got older, I’d quickly read the article to myself, and we’d discuss the topic.
I learned a lot from my mother during these discussions. For example, only
knowing the sense of the word “invalid” to mean “incorrect”, I was confused
when a Times article referred to sick people using the same word. I told my
mother, “It seems mean to call sick people invalid. It isn’t their fault that
they are sick.” My mother was confused by my statement, re-read the
corresponding passage, and then showed me the alternative definition in the
dictionary. Or, my mother would give me the “World Briefing” subsection, which
contains several small news pieces that were often more quirky than the longer
articles. These strange tidbits were a boon for discussion.
Moreover, I learned early in life how to have a substantive conversation with
an adult on an “adult” topic. This certainly contributed to my propensity for
engaging with teachers at school or my parents’ friends at their parties. I was
precocious and this precociousness later opened several doors through
networking and merely being sociable.
Many of the articles my mother gave me were from the obituaries section. The
Times’ obits are notable for paying respect not just to world leaders and
celebrities, but even to people who were not household names and who really
impacted the world even in a subtle way. By giving me these articles, my mother
taught me about how a person’s worth to the world is evaluated: fame, money,
and excitement do not really matter. Making a difference does.
My mother was born and raised in Brooklyn, and despite being transplanted out
of the busy city environment and into a sleepy country town, she always felt
connected back to her home city through the Metropolitan section of the Times.
She passed down that love of the city, where I now call home, to me by
presenting articles about the goings-on in New York. She would point out
articles involving places that she used to frequent as a kid, or that she’d
like to experience for the first time on one of our many day trips. Clyde
Haberman didn’t know it, but he was a babysitter for me for minutes at a time
with his column twice a week, every week.
Sometime in middle school, I started reading the paper cover-to-cover by myself
on weekends. With my father on the golf course, my mother and I would wake up
late and she would cook a hot breakfast, usually French toast and tea. We’d sit
at the kitchen table for hours and trade sections of the Times to each other.
One of us would announce an interesting article, and if both of us had read it,
we’d talk about it. I think the most discussed articles were those that exposed
hypocrisy of politicians, especially Republicans. If an article caused one of
us to chuckle, we’d be obliged to read the passage aloud.
Probably sparked by an uneven skew in the number of articles in our early
morning review, I took a special interest in the Science Times on Tuesdays. I
remember specifically looking forward to Dennis Overbye’s newest writing. This
interest eventually propelled me into the science section at the local bookstore,
where I started to pick up mass-market science books, mostly written by physics
professors. Even if they are fanciful and only full of half-truths (as the
whole truth is too complicated to sell and explain to the American population),
they got me to read and got me inspired by the cosmos. I specifically remember
reading J. Richard Gott’s “Time Travel in Einstein’s Universe” and being awed
by the ideas presented in the book. My mother bought us tickets to hear him
speak at the American Museum of Natural History.
I started to read the Book Review section, but only the reviews of science and
history books that recently hit the shelves. Eventually, I outgrew the popular
books, and moved on to buy science textbooks from the same book store section.
I still treasure my copy of the “Introduction to Algorithms” book that I
purchased very early in high school. When I purchased it, I could barely follow
the complexity of the first few chapters on the most elementary of algorithms.
But the algorithms slowly became tools in my toolbox as I was faced with new
programming challenges. Who knew that reading the Science section of the Times
would eventually lead me to a computer science degree and beyond.
My mother told me later in life that she was surprised that I had better
standardized test scores in elementary school in English reading and writing
compared to mathematics. She found it amusing that I took a strong turn toward
the latter by the end of middle school, and even then only managed to score 10
points better on the math portion of my SATs than the verbal section.
Despite my interest in technology, I never really enjoyed the Technology
section. I found it awkward: most of it is business news involving a particular
sector of business, and the remainder is about consumer technology that will
have no discernible impact on the future of humanity. (I’m looking at
you, David Pogue. I vaguely recall sending him a strongly worded letter about
being annoyed by one of his columns, and he wrote back a surprisingly thoughtful
response. That exchange reinforced to me the idea that even if I disagreed with
someone, it certainly doesn’t mean they are a bad person.)
Reading the Times also broadened my horizons from just science. Domestic and
global politics intrigued and infuriated me. Seeing ordinary people suffer
because of the incompetence and corruption of a select few who have been given
power and money made me – and continues to make me – very angry at the state
of the world. My mother and I always remarked when the Times decided to place a
picture of a dead person on the cover, usually the victim of some horrible
far-away atrocity. As a global society, I know we can do better than this.
Around the time I got interested in world affairs, I started to enjoy the Week
in Review section (now the Sunday Review section) for being just that: a
retrospective on the week’s events and a bigger-picture analysis of their
meaning. The contributors would often suggest solutions on how to fix the
problem-du-jour and I would reflect on whether I agree or not. This got me
started in watching “Meet the Press”, which has a very similar format, and was
moderated by the great Tim Russert, whose interrogative insights brought great
clarity from the names behind the politics. (I also watched the “The McLaughlin
Group” simply because it is a bunch of old, cranky people yelling at each
other).
My interest in the business section came later. At first, it was interesting to
see these large entities being fiercely competitive and making money. Soon, it
became apparent that these companies do not account for the public’s interest
in their actions. Nevertheless, our world and our lives are dominated by these
corporations, so it was still useful to know something about how they work.
That said, many of the articles are not about corporate dealings at all, but
are case studies on practical psychology and how to apply it out in the world.
I remember reading the wedding announcements through the years and mentally
noting where the bride and groom went to school and worked. They seemed really
happy and successful, and even prestigious, given their story was published in
the New York Times. But I was never the most popular kid in my public school
and I got picked on a lot for being different. I distinctly remember the day in
2002 when the Times first started publishing same-sex announcements and being
very happy about it.
I read most of the rest of the sections in an attempt to better relate to other
people. Only briefly (during a strange period in college) did I ever have an
interest in fashion, but I’ve always read the Style section, such that I’m able
to hold a conversation on etiquette or what a modern man should wear. The real
estate section is interesting if only to get a peak into how the 1% lives and
the problems they are confronted with. And so on and so forth for the other
sections.
After being exposed to the New York Times for over two decades of my nearly
three decade-old life, I still read the Times today in a fashion that suggests
those mornings in the kitchen, especially on Sundays. When I wake up, I’ll read
a few articles to get my mind going for the day (and sometimes to stay in bed
for a
little while longer). I read the international and domestic news first and most
completely. When I remember to, I’ll seek out the World Briefing section
online, as it is not easy to find. I’ll then skip to the Sunday Review, which I
especially look forward to. I’ll jump back to the New York section, paying
particular attention to the “Sunday Routine” column, which features the Sunday
habits of a notable New Yorker each week. I love seeing how other people live
and I often get tips on good restaurants or cafes around the city. On a more
basic level, the column makes me feel better about my own,
uneventful-but-delightful-and-irreplaceable routine that I share with my
girlfriend. Then I’ll read the “Corner Office” and “The Boss” columns of the
Business section in an attempt to learn something about managing teams and
career choices. I might skim the Book Reviews for – still – any science or
history tomes. Next, I’ll hammer out the other sections – Travel, Arts, Real
Estate, etc – paying strong attention only to a few of the articles but
reading at least the beginning of most.
I’ll save the Times Magazine for last, as if for dessert. I like seeing the
dazzling floor plan of the multi-million dollar apartment that no one needs on
the first few pages. Then I’ll read the “Talk” column, which is an interview
transcript, often very pointed, with someone notable. At this point, I’ll
reliably wish that William Safire were still alive and writing his “On
Language” column. Even if one disagreed with his politics, everyone agrees that
he had a unique mastery of English and its dark and twisty innards. In the last
few years, I’ve been enjoying the “Diagnosis” columns, again owing to my
mother, who kept dozens of physician desk references and medical textbooks
in our library, which I read as a kid for no good reason. I like playing along
with the column and trying to apply my feeble medical knowledge to a case
straight out of “House”. I may or may not read the cover article. If it is
about politics, world affairs, or murder, then I’ll read it. If it is a human
interest story or on sports, I’ll skip it. I still don’t understand the purpose
of the “One-Page Magazine”.
The number of articles my mother cut out for me dropped off after I stopped
taking the bus to school. By then, I often read the Times sooner and faster
than she did and would tell her about the interesting stories to read. When I
left for college, she would send care packages consisting of a folder stuffed
full of articles to read, some of which with a note about why she thought I’d
be interested. On the front of the folder was always a note on a Post-It that
would inevitably end, “Love, Mom.” Our phone conversations would often be about
the articles we read recently. She eventually learned to use email and would
send me even more articles. Probably since I was less and less available, she
would bring additional folders along to our periodic dinners for our shared
birthday or other occasions, which formed the basis of the conversation at the
table. She even started to give similar folders to her close friends, each one
personalized with articles for each friend’s specific interests.
After she died, we found a chest in our house where she kept her clippings
before distribution, which would never happen again. The box was all but
overflowing. Each article represents a conversation that she would have liked
to have with someone, and most of them would have probably been directed at me.
That chest is an interesting symbol of 24 years of tutelage.
There are a few obvious lessons here. Teaching is good, but inspiring learning
is even better. This is best done when the mind is young and maleable and can
even start with just a few minutes a day. I was given a guiding hand through a
source of knowledge. At some point, I stopped needing the assistance and I
was able to navigate myself. I was given choices on what areas of knowledge to
investigate and I latched on to the ones that were most interesting to me at
the time. Those interests were allowed to evolve as my mind changed and as I
learned more.
I’m indebted to my mother for the effort she expended in giving me a
world-class education, right in our own home.