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"He had a sudden wild craving for a newspaper. It was so strong that he could smell the printer's ink and hear the crackling and rustling of the pages." From Darkness At Noon by Arthur Koestler.

Of all the means of communication at my disposal, the two I enjoy most are standing out by the side of the road-my mailbox and my Gazette box. Unfortunately, the mailbox is mute for the most part lately. Except for letters from an old man who lives in a motel in Connecticut, who no longer drives and who doesn't own a computer, all I get is bills and circulars.

The demise of the personal letter and its replacement by e-mail with all the baggage e-mail brings-poor spelling, lack of capital letters and punctuation, and lack of thought given to content and style-is disheartening, but I still look forward to getting my Gazette every morning. And it came as no surprise to me that the Gazette was named best newspaper in its class by the New York State Associated Press Association recently.

All of the dire predictions of the demise of the newspaper, like those about the death of the book, seem premature. While e-mail has almost destroyed letter writing, newspapers have survived the advent of television and radio, and after a decade of the internet, appear to be surviving that as well. In some ways, the internet has already enhanced the newspaper, as people are able to subscribe to on-line editions. However, it is the print edition that I am addicted to. Besides sugar and cream, it is the third ingredient I add to my coffee every morning.

If it's Sunday, Tuesday or Thursday, I usually start by reading Carl Strock's column. He is my favorite newspaper columnist, except when he trespasses onto the topic of religion. Then I read the editorial page. Like the late Molly Ivins, when Mona Charen is the columnist, I only have to read the headline to know what she is going to say. If the day's columnist is Richard Cohen, then I have to read the whole column. Mr. Cohen thinks through every issue carefully and his opinion is often surprising.

Next I read the local news, followed by the national news. I then turn my attention to the obituaries. Years ago I never read the obituaries. But my wife got me reading them. She reads them everyday because she wants to make sure no one she knows has died.

In the past, obituaries were somewhat boring, but as family members often write them now, they actually are a source of pleasure, considering the event they are memorializing. In fact, a few have

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