When I was a kid, we lived across the alley from our grandparents. They had a subscription to the local paper, so every day after school I would make my way over.
Eventually, I got scolded for not even bothering to say hi before I took their paper and headed to the brown living-room carpet, facedown, to immerse myself in ink and newsprint.
The first section would always be the comics (as Grandma called them, “the funnies”), then every word of the sports section, all the way down to the box scores. In sixth grade, that’s where I learned that my favorite player was traded to the Baltimore Orioles, and my gasp was so loud that it spilled two drinks in the kitchen. Last — after the front page, local, opinion, arts, religion and every other bit of news was consumed — came the daily stock market report.
As time passed, the stock section became the first thing I ever noticed shrinking, then disappearing, once the internet made yesterday’s numbers obsolete.
It wouldn’t be the last change.
When we first moved to Utah, one of the very first things I did was subscribe to The Salt Lake Tribune.
I had to, it had two full pages of comics!
In the time since, yellowed memories from The Tribune have found their way onto the side of our fridge, next to the family pictures, vacation magnets and Christmas cards.
First, the most beautiful thing I’ve ever read in a newspaper: “Neighbors help terminally ill Provo woman watch moonrise at Delicate Arch” (May 26, 2016, by Matthew Piper) which brought me to tears with a story of kindness and life.
Next, an op-ed by Nalini Nadkarni that was published in the early, fearful days of COVID-19: “Recovery from upheaval can generate a new state” (April 10, 2020). Kudos to Professor Nadkarni for sharing, and editorial page editor George Pyle for printing, this exploration of fear, change, loss and recovery with a clarity and wisdom that came at the perfect moment.
She shared a poem by Mary Oliver that I have come back to countless times:
(In my sleep I dreamed this poem)
Someone I loved once gave me
a box full of darkness.
It took me years to understand
that this, too, was a gift.
The third, “Sausage strife in Germany: Pedestrian hits BMW with bologna” (Aug. 17, 2016) with the closing line: “The bologna was not seized as evidence.”
I think my grandparents would have appreciated that last one the most.
The Tribune’s change from daily in person to weekly and digital is no small thing, and it will probably take me some time to see it as a gift.
My gratitude goes out to the carriers who worked under the cover of darkness, at ungodly hours and on Sundays, to deliver (and redeliver) something I looked forward to seeing every day.
Selfishly, I will miss seeing my own name in this paper: I took the plunge and wrote an op-ed of my own for the first time in The Tribune. I still owe a thank-you card to Mr. Pyle for printing it, and I will proudly hold onto my (physical) copy of that paper for a long time.
From Pat Bagley’s cartoons and the cartoon caption contest, (which I hope makes the transition to digital) to the editorials, to the carefully curated op-eds, this opinion section brings us all something that is sorely needed in this world: differing perspective.
That’s why The Salt Lake Tribune has earned this subscriber’s loyalty, and my ongoing business.
It’s more than just “the funnies,” after all.
Dio Tararrel
Dio Tararrel is a political writer and researcher who lives in Salt Lake City.
