Photo Credit: Joe Strupek

Newspapers have always been a part of my life. Growing up, it was the weekly arrival of the Burgettstown Enterprise, daily deliveries of the Washington Observer-Reporter, then later, the Beaver County Times. After I had a home of my own, there was always a newspaper waiting for me every morning on the front doorstep. I wrote for my high school and college papers and, years later, wrote briefly for a local upstate New York paper. Most of the aptitude tests I took recommended pursuing a career in journalism or the law. My bachelor's degree is in criminal justice, but I ended up in public relations. The media became my life’s blood. Alternating between keeping the company from being mentioned in a story or trying to get them headlines. 

The job required subscriptions to an assortment of newspapers, news aggregators, and news alert services. But my passion – okay, obsession – with the news took this to another level. I had daily subscriptions to over a dozen newspapers. My inbox became so clogged with news-related emails that I had to program an automatic system to move and file them so correspondence wouldn’t become lost. Even though I took email-free vacations, I couldn't stay away from the news. And just like it took an entire Jack's pizza to satisfy my craving for a snack, the low-calorie tasteless servings found in television news never satisfied my need for information. I needed heaping portions of fatty print. 

When I retired from public relations, I left my focus on the company’s brand and reputation behind, but I took my news obsession – okay, addiction –with me. I halved my newspaper subscriptions and trimmed the emails, but I could still name reporters and their expertise across outlets like a baseball broadcaster recites team rosters. Sure, journalism is known as the first rough draft of history, and as a political and cold war historian the news offers insights and ideas, but I was collecting more first rough drafts than a high school English teacher. 

Over the years, I've had to periodically wrestle the pounds down to a level that eases the strain on my heart and my wardrobe. On one of these weight loss journeys, I followed Dr. Andrew Weil’s, Eight Weeks to Optimum Health.   Part of the plan is a news fast. He believes avoiding the news provides a mental calm, minimizes the overstimulation brought on by the media, and helps your body function better. There's no arguing the news is filled with stories that cumulatively can affect your psyche. But I always thought I was immune. Until a recent trip to the grocery store. The shelves were bare of the low sodium fat-free crackers I like to have with my sardines (a delicious low-calorie lunch). I held it together until I got home and then raged to the dogs about disrupted supply chains, inflation, labor shortages, and rising gas prices. Then I followed this up by blaming the cattle dog for contributing to the increase in violence after she barked at the Amazon delivery person. A news fast was in order.

I swore off reading any news during a two-week vacation. Spending most of my time in areas without cell service, fly rod in hand, helped. After a few days, the urge to scan the headlines of a news site, or bring up the digital edition of a paper, quieted. I got so used to reaching for a book or opening an e-reader instead that when I came home, the fast continued. Since then, I've canceled some subscriptions and deleted quite a few emails. I haven’t buried my head in the sand, and I could hold my own in a current events quiz, but now when I do read, it's a single paper, not an entire newsstand. 

There's evidence both diets are going well. This week I fit into a pair of dress pants I haven't worn in three years, and when my wife Chris wanted to talk about something in the news and assumed I read about it, I was happy to declare my ignorance. 

I think this calls for a celebration. Some Jack's pizza might be in order. But just a slice.