Marry Me, Newspapers.com

Er, On Second Thought, Maybe Friends With Benefits Is Better

Dearest Newspapers.com,

You had me at hello.

When we first met more than a decade ago, your openness and depth swept me off my feet. Since then, whether I was researching Jon Stewart or Volodymyr Zelensky, you gave me what I was searching for, what I craved…and then some.

When I was a kid, I read the newspaper the way other kids read comic books. I had the WHOLE WORLD in my lap, the polar opposite of insular suburban Glen Rock, New Jersey. It felt like I could escape, especially with the Sunday edition, a mammoth brick with at least ten different sections. The cat always flinched when it landed with a thud on the doorstep.

My love of newspapers has never left me. Before you showed up, I was having flings with multiple partners, promiscuously flocking to various databases, constantly shelling out a few bucks so I could access individual newspaper archives.

All the while, I was looking for my One True Love.

And then YOU showed up, ready to provide me with whatever my heart desired. From the very beginning, you spilled your innermost secrets, revealing that Rachel Maddow had a grudging respect for conservative commentator Pat Buchanan, and telling me that Jon Stewart got fired from six different jobs at a suburban New Jersey mall in just one year because he couldn’t stop telling jokes to his co-workers.

I swooned. I fell in love with you because you offered SO MUCH.

I even wanted to marry you in those first fragile weeks, pledging eternal fidelity to your expansive compendium of worldwide newspapers that go all the way back to the 1700s. As of October 22, 2024, you claim to possess “1,024,593,187 pages of historical newspapers from 27,100+ newspapers from around the United States and beyond.”

Oh, heart be still.

Without you, the biographies I’ve written would be far less colorful, packed with fewer facts, and honestly, my subjects probably wouldn’t have engaged me as much. For instance, when you were whispering sweet nothings to me when I was working on my forthcoming book — Propaganda Girls: The Secret War of the Women in the OSS — you revealed that Marlene Dietrich held a kiss-a-thon with soldiers in Paris and that “her forehead got so bruised by the helmets of the eager GIs that she had to issue a ‘hats off’ request,” [via the Glens Falls Post Star from November 1, 1944.]

And then you told me that Marlene had recorded an EP disc of novelty songs with singer Rosemary Clooney — George’s aunt — in 1953, including “Too Old To Cut the Mustard,” a song about the challenges of dealing with older men.

Oh, Newsie, you were so perfect for so long. And then…everything changed.

Not all at once, of course. As these things tend to go, it was a slow drip. But slow drips eventually turn into floods, and every time I throw myself into your arms, you show me more…and more and more and more.

Today, it’s just too much. The very thing that made me fall in love with you is making me pull back today.

Because honestly, I’M TIRED.

I love you, but you’re like the Energizer Bunny of digital newsprint. [An oxymoron?] Thanks to AI, you’re not only adding more newspaper pages more quickly and efficiently, but you’re also reexamining what you’ve already found so you can spit out even more results.

Savanna King of Savanna’s Genealogy Rabbit Hole touched on this problem issue earlier this month. Not with you, my cherub, but with a close relation of yours.

Holy crap, indeed. On the one hand, this is really, really good. So much information! So many details to fill in!

But on the other, at this rate, I'll never, ever be done. With anything.

Because deadlines being what they are, there will come a time when I have to finish.

And that’s really bad because I’ll look at that book when it finally shows up in the form of electrons or dead trees, and I’ll KNOW it could be better.

Actually, this has been an issue for writers since time immemorial; but while you’re adding more and more and more ALL THE TIME, it’s almost like you’re rubbing it in my face.

Which — sob — I know is not your intention.

In a way, it’s the same old story, the way that so many relationships start off red-hot before crashing and burning out, or just quietly fade into the sunset. [Or not.] Because when it comes to spouses and significant others, what you see at the beginning is pretty much what you'll end up with by the time it's all over.

With you, my dear Newsie, you’ve always been all about the MORE MORE MORE.

So I really shouldn’t have been surprised.

But I was.

I’m glad we didn’t get married. But I still love you. And need you.

Just not so much.

Can we be Friends With Benefits instead?

Love & kisses,

Lisa

The Takeaway: It’s ridiculously easy to get carried away with research. How do you know when to end? If ever? Baby steps. Before you head down your next rabbit hole, pick a specific goal. Set a timer and then go like hell before the buzzer goes off. Or decide that you’ll sort through 10 — or 50 or 100 — different records before you call it a day. Or have someone else set your limits for you: When I go to the state historical society, the research room is only open for three hours at a pop. Whatever it is, figure out your goal BEFORE you start digging.