Listening to WNYC on January 31, I heard how this guy invented a watch which takes the statistically predicted time of your death and counts backwards so you value the minutes as they tick away (I had to turn it off).
So, both I and WestView will come to an end. Now I know few will care when I go, but I wish some will care when WestView goes. I didn’t set out to create a paper like the one you are holding in your hands 10 years ago. It started as the photocopied 8 ½ by 11 Charles Street News. However, when I found out we could print 5,000 copies of a newspaper for the same price as 500 photocopies, it became a newspaper for the whole West Village.
Like all these things, it just grew. Just to fill it up space, I kept asking people to write, but as the years went by, the contributors became better and better until now we have a group I would not trade with the Times.
I wish, before I and the paper goes under, we secure that hospital, but I have to console myself with knowing that we are doing the best we can.
Sure, it would be great if half of the people who read the paper would send us 12 bucks and subscribe and if some of those mom and pop shops realize just making the rent is not the same as getting a few new customers and take an ad, or just take an ad because they like what we are trying to do.
In this electronic age, nothing is lost and I suppose, years hence, some historian will find the WestView files and tut over how naive we were. Yes, well, I suppose going against the power of money is naïve.
Now, I have a shocker. Maggie hated WestView. I guess she resented the time it took away from her. Yet after her side of the bed became empty, I discovered that I needed WestView, so it wasn’t all for nothing.