When I was growing up, the arrival of the Sunday New York Times was almost a sacred event. The paper seemed endless and filled the whole day. Brimming with fantastic things including news from around the world and suggestions on how to live well and be happy, it made the whole world of adults enticing. There was an entire section on what books one should read and another on where one should travel. The writers seemed to be rare and special people who had important thoughts and shared them with us.How times have changed.
Yesterday in the section of The Times called REVIEW, meaning I have no idea what, I read almost all of an article about how baby boomers should be sure to discard their sex toys in advance of their death lest the surviving family members find them after the funeral. This was not a joke but rather a serious bit of advice. There were details of various possible objects the author had in mind. Words like latex, banana and feathers were employed more than once.
I'm confused. The only sex toy I have is permanently attached to my husband. If I had any others and I died and someone found them I'd still be dead, so I have no idea how it could matter. (If there's anything sillier than worrying about one's reputation, it's worrying about it after you're dead.) Anyway, The New York Times, she ain't what she used to be.
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