When I was very, very young, my grandfather would bundle me into my stroller and walk me up to the local drugstore where I toddled in and made a beeline for the magazine section. Although I couldn’t have been more than two or three years old at the time, I can recall the look of that magazine rack even today, with it’s colorful array of glossy covers and the tantalizing aroma of all that luscious ink.
Family myth has it that I always picked out the most expensive magazine, which in those days was Life Magazine. Most likely it was the only one within reach of my tiny fist. Because it was oversized, I remember it being placed on the bottom shelf of the rack. Somewhere in our collections, there is a black and white photographic slide of a tiny me, looking a bit like a blimp in a navy blue snowsuit and red rubber boots, clutching a huge Life magazine to my chest and grinning to beat the band.
Fast forward 50-something years, and I’ve found another magazine I’m crazy about. It’s called The Sun, and it’s a small monthly magazine with an assortment of wonderfully written stories, poems, and essays, accompanied by stunning photographs. Each issue closes with a section called Readers Write, a compendium of readers personal thoughts and experiences on a chosen topic. Every piece is something I wish I could have written – they’re moving, witty, and thought provoking. I feel better and smarter for having read them.
I especially love being able to tuck it into my bag and take off for my favorite coffee shop, where I can settle in with a cup and spend a few minutes reading some extraordinary writing.
I think you’ll love it.
Now tell me, are there any favorite magazines in your history?