Blue Bags

Blue Bags

The conversation took place early one morning about five years ago while I was walking my dog, who had just made her daily deposit on a neighbor’s lawn. As usual, I inserted my right hand into a plastic newspaper bag, pulled the bag up over my arm, and bent down to retrieve the poop with my now shrouded hand. As I carefully picked up the offensive material I heard a woman’s voice from behind me.

“Pardon me,” the voice said, “but do you mind telling me where you got that cute blue bag?”

I straightened up and carefully reversed the plastic bag down over my hand, which now held Millie’s droppings, and tied a knot in the end.

“Certainly,” I said, “I got it from The New York Times.”

The woman, whose own dog was tugging at his leash, looked puzzled.

“We get the Times delivered to our office,” I explained, “so I collect the blue bags in which it comes and bring them home to use for picking up after my dog.”

“Oh,” she said. “I thought maybe you could buy them at a pet store or somewhere.”

“Not that I know of,” I replied, “but of course you can use the bags the local paper comes in, too. I just think the blue ones are a bit more esthetically pleasing.”

* * * * * *

That conversation, which occurred before the Times began offering home delivery in my neighborhood, probably wouldn’t happen today. As The News & Observer’s circulation has dwindled in my section of town in recent years, the Times’ presence has become increasingly apparent. When I walk Millie these days, blue newspaper bags outnumber translucent ones on some streets in my neighborhood.

In my perambulations I often find myself wondering why so many of my neighbors now get the Times delivered. It’s not as if a glib salesman showed up at our doors and we subscribed just to get him to move on; to the contrary, signing up requires a conscious effort – not to mention a financial commitment. (Ours is the sort of neighborhood where almost everyone has a high-speed internet connection, so they could read the newspaper on line for free if they wished.) I doubt that even the most status-conscious residents in our area have subscribed solely because of whatever cachet is attached to being identifiable as a Times reader, and most don’t even own a dog.

At the end of the day I’m left to assume that most the blue bags that appear each morning in my neighbors’ yards and driveways are there for the same reason as mine: i.e., that there are still a lot of people who will pay for the opportunity to hold an honest-to-God printed newspaper in their hands – provided, of course, that it provides them with deep, literate and intellectually stimulating information they want to know.