PATSY R. BRUMFIELD: Small print, lost stuff just pitiful

By Patsy R. Brumfield/NEMS Daily Journal

Is it just me, or is the print in everything getting smaller and smaller? I got the new Lee County-area phone book the other day and put it away until I needed to call somebody for an interview last week.
Lordy, I strained and strained to see the type for his name and street address.
OK, I already wear glasses to read. Frankly, they work just fine.
But my new complaint has to do with the unnecessarily small type size that publications have decided is acceptable.
Of course, if they use small type, logically, they will use less paper on which to print it. I get the cost economics of all that.
But isn’t it also logical that if 35 percent of the population can’t read it, its advertisers just aren’t getting any bang at all?
I have this same problem with the Journal’s Sunday TV guide. I can’t squint my eyeballs tight enough to read it at all.
At times, when I’m really desperate about reading this small type in the phone book or elsewhere, I put the page under a very bright light in hopes I’ll get some readability rebound. Most times it works, but still, it’s not easy.
Gratefully, the online world hasn’t gone too small yet.
If I need to “bump up” the type on my smartphone, I can do that thing with my fingers and enlarge the image. On the computer, I can adjust with the “zoom” feature.
Of course, this “losing-it” syndrome is hardly a welcomed side effect of life’s hopefully long journey.
Recently, I also discovered that I see TV much better and the roadway ahead while I’m driving, if I wear my glasses. It takes a bit of getting used to, but things look much sharper, no doubt.
Now we come to yesterday, when an office colleague was nice enough to treat me and editorial editor Joe Rutherford to a casual lunch celebrating Joe’s 40th anniversary with the Journal. Remarkable, remarkable.
We had a lovely and lively time and talked about politics and unusual people we have known.
Joe also was urged to tell his most fascinating moments – which are many – across his years with the Journal. (Many local residents may take comfort in knowing that even though Joe’s memory is profoundly keen and all-encompassing, he appears to have little or no interest in writing any of it down.)
When we arrived back at the office, I chatted with a few folks and then realized I couldn’t find my car keys and phone.
We searched my lunch host’s car, then he drove me back to the restaurant, inquired about my belongings and put half the place’s employees under temporary suspicion.
We lamented at where my items could be and finally returned to the Journal, where I retraced my steps.
Lo and behold, I suddenly realized, I’d stopped at the photography desk before lunch. Sure enough, there they were.
With all these realizations of advancing seniority, I’m afraid my children are calling The Home right now.
Patsy R. Brumfield writes a Thursday column. Contact her at (662) 678-1596 or

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