Bernard Axelrad Scholarship Fund

I have a confession to make about an obsession of mine in the wild hope that, by doing so, I will begin to break its outrageous hold on me. It may sound innocent enough as addictions go but, believe me, it has resulted in enveloping me and limiting my way of life.

I spend more time each day reading newspapers than most people spend working on a full time job.

I am a newspaper junkie!

Thrust a newspaper in front of me and I instinctively start reading like a smoker reaching for another cigarette. I can't get to the more important things in my life until I've had my daily fix. As soon as I open my eyes in the morning I reach for yesterday's unfinished paper beside my bed.

It's hard for me to stay calm knowing large chunks of the paper remain unread.

Everything in the newspapers is fair game for me.

The sports section involves not only reading the stories but also each and every box score of a baseball, football or basketball game. I even peruse the details of sports I'm not interested in such as golf, horse racing, bowling and motor car racing.

Even eyes nitty-gritty of every corporation

Covering the financial and business section entails a daily scanning of several hundred stock quotations of securities I've neither ever owned nor intend to buy. Dividend schedules, new issues announcements and the nitty-gritty detail of every corporation's doings are noted.

Add to this the voluminous news section — local, national and international — the theater, arts and cultural events, the comics, Dear Abby and Ann Landers, general articles of interest, editorial page, columnists, obituaries, and weather reports on every city far and wide that I have ever visited, and you begin to get a picture of what's so time consuming.

Not having the time to read books led me to read the book review section so I wouldn't miss out totally on book knowledge. How would I know what plays and movies to see unless I read the reviews? It was such impeccable logic that kept fueling my addiction.

And this is for two daily newspapers, not one!

Daily News pink sheets: as bad as a first puff

As a kid of ten I began to read the daily papers in New York to keep up with the baseball scores. In those days I didn't even buy the papers but pored over the Daily News pink sheets with their early evening baseball scores, surreptitiously at the corner news stand. Little did I realize that for an addict that was like the initial puff on a cigarette leading to a two-pack-a-day habit.

Early on I recall reading the paper at the breakfast table under the gaze of a most indulgent mother whose primary concern was that I eat enough, and I sure did eat more while distracted by reading.

As I got older I had a great desire to keep up with the news so as to know what was going on in the world outside the ghetto that was the Lower East Side. The times then were heady.

In 1928 Al Smith, the first Catholic ever to run for President, lost to Herbert Hoover and a terrible Depression came upon the land. Then my generation's Camelot, Franklin Delano Roosevelt, entered to rescue the "oppressed and under-privileged" from the toils of the "economic royalists." These were exciting, tumultuous times and I wanted to follow them.

Insidiously and inexorably I was hooked.

It only got worse from there. My desire for knowledge inevitably led me to read more and more of the daily newspapers as my interests expanded.

‘These were exciting, tumultuous times ….’

By reading political, economic and other vital news in depth I did gain a profound grasp of the subject matter and the knowledge did give me a sense of power — as well as frustration at my impotence in the face of official stupidity and venality.

Unfortunately, I am a store-house of trivial knowledge, too, because of a preoccupation with the less essential trash that fills a daily newspaper.

Thank heavens I draw the line on the classified section and the crossword puzzles (and please don't entice me by saying those are the best parts).

Reading the newspaper was a great way to wile away the many hours spent riding the subways to school, to work and coming home from a date late at night. On a crowded New York subway or bus it was quite an art to fold your newspaper in such small sections as not to intrude on your neighbor's space — all this with one hand while hanging on to an overhead strap with the other.

From there I graduated to never being without a sheet of newspaper in my pocket to whip out while waiting for an elevator, a luncheon companion, or at the doctor's office.

This consuming obsession dictates his schedule

I take part of the paper to read at the steam room of my gym (wet and soggy), while waiting to be served in any bank, store or other commercial establishment, in the checkout line of the supermarket, and in places I'm too ashamed to mention.

I truly never leave home without it!

Sadly, this compulsion of mine has only gotten worse over the years. Seemingly not as harmful as some other addictions, it is not all that benign. It literally dictates my schedule.

Important work gets deferred, telephone calls go unanswered, social life gets curtailed, all in deference to the all-consuming paper.

Worst of all is that it cheats loved ones. I have a most tolerant and understanding wife in Lillian, and my inane preoccupation with the newspaper takes away our precious time together. It is not right.

Immersing myself in the newspaper has a soporific effect on me, presumably less hazardous to health than valium (I was even reading in the pre-op room just prior to recent surgery). The most prolonged wait becomes tolerable with a paper to read and my patience ends when the paper is exhausted. It insulates me from social contact and having to deal with the perversity of people, thus preserving my equanimity.

All benefits aside, he is doomed like Sisyphus

When added to the knowledge and insights gained from so much reading, obviously my compulsion has not been without its benefits.

Unfortunately, I feel I have carried the innocent and commonplace ritual of reading a daily newspaper to extreme heights where it is crippling my ability to act — and beyond my ability to control. Like Sisyphus, who was eternally doomed to keep rolling a large rock up a mountain only to have it fall back before reaching the summit, I am fighting a losing cause.

Every tomorrow brings another batch of newspapers.