I have always loved magazines.
Teen and Young Miss were gateways, leading to Glamour and Cosmo. I’ll pick up People or US for a flight; Vanity Fair for a beach vacation – nothing in there is a quick read.
It’s the variety of topics I love – especially in New York Magazine. Like the piece about the Website “What it’s like to…”, where people submit their stories – such as, “What it’s like to SEE ALL COLORS” (a rare condition), or “What it’s like to SLEEP ONLY 2 HOURS A DAY.” There were also far more extreme excerpts, some I wish I could unread...
Recently there was a story about John Hinckley, would-be assassin of President Reagan, out of the psychiatric facility where he was incarcerated, currently living with his mother in Williamsburg, VA. He still has Secret Service trailing him – though mostly to the Burger King.
I’ve read some beautiful, personal stories in Real Simple – one by an adopted woman whose biological parents were a college girl and her boyfriend – a football player killed on the Marshall plane crash. The adoptee found her father’s parents, still in West Virginia, who were overjoyed to meet the child of their only child.
I get Pilates Style, Entertainment Weekly, Oprah, HGTV and Bookmarks – and sometimes I receive subscriptions I’ve never ordered, like a year of American Cowboy, which led to an onslaught of bizarre cowboy-themed catalogs. My current freebie is Washingtonian. I used to get Smithsonian, which had fascinating articles that made me feel incredibly smart upon reading – but the subject matter was so out of my normal sphere I’d forget it all in a few days. Or hours.
But that’s the beauty of it – an hour, maybe two to soak it in, wrap it up and toss it in the bin. Satisfying. Efficient. Sweet.
I was born in Oswego, NY,
"I had always wanted to be a writer, but was impeded by the belief that to be a writer one had to be extraordinary, and I knew I wasn't. By the time I was ready to give up my academic career I had realized that while books are extraordinary, writers themselves are no more or less special than anyone else." The Thirteenth Tale by Diane Setterfield