The Sewanee Mountain Messenger

I used to read paper newspapers -- the kind that are thick with advertisements on Sundays and ink that rubs off on the fingers and that someone throws toward the front door every morning.

Now I read The New York Times, The New Orleans Times-Picayune, and The Nashville Tennessean every morning online. I choose the sections and the articles and wonder what it would be like to hold the newspapers while I spoon my oatmeal and sip my tea. It's just not the same.

Every Thursday, however, I look forward to picking up my real copy of The Sewanee Mountain Messenger, usually at the post office, where I park, leave my bags in my unlocked car, and wander in to the table near the mailboxes. The Messenger is a strange and strangely seductive read: financed in part by the university, advertising, and The Sewanee Community Chest, the paper is produced by a stalwart staff, including current and former professors. It's a public relations tool for the college, sure, but it also features pets of the week up for adoption, a charming "Nature Notes" column by the Yeatmans, and another equally entertaining poetry column called "From Bard to Verse" by Scott and Phoebe Bates (he taught my brother French here in the late 1950s and he was an active supporter of The Highlander Folk School).

My favorite page features letters to the editor. Several years ago, there were vigorous arguments about Gene Robinson (a college graduate) who spoke here after being elected Bishop in New Hampshire. Of late , there has also been a running argument about whether Obama is Christian. Today's paper featured a follow-up letter by some folks I know about the recent chemical spraying of wildflowers lining a road down into the valley below.

Now that I've been here for a while, I recognize most of the people and places mentioned every week, and that makes me feel good. Why? I am finally beginning to feel like I belong.