There are some of us who still like to hold the newspaper in our hands and hear the rattling of the paper while turning the pages. We call ourselves dinosaurs and laugh about it, but it is painful, too.

It is hard for us to understand how others can get by without the experience.

Coffee drinkers savor their cup in the morning, holding it in the palms of both hands while inhaling the wafting aroma. “Best part of waking up,” said Maxwell Coffee, a notable expert.

Where once was respect for the bean beverage, there is now a reverence. It has not yet become passé to linger over the new offerings at the cup o’ Joe diners like Starbucks. Presumably, there is still a morning thrill to order and swoon over a double-latte frappe mocha half-caf.

Newspapers have lost that drifting, dreamy morning scent. Here’s what happened.

First, consider the content: Once the bible of the non-theological literate and filled with news and opinion from around the world, the newspaper became – at some point – a vehicle for the delivery of household hints and ads. Gilbert’s Audiology & Hearing Aid Center Inc. has an advertisement positioned on the front page of Monday’s Tulsa World.

The front page was once the heralded glory-spot for journalistic pride. Landing a story on the front page was at the heart of every black and white movie with even the slightest connection to newspapers. And there used to be a lot of those.

I opened the paper this morning to the headline, “Rabbit rescuers,” and thought, Is this what it has come to? On closer examination, it was the headline for the ‘Scene’ section of the paper.

My first real job was with the McAlester Democrat, an upstart newspaper that went daily to challenge the tenured New-Capital. It was a morning paper, and those of us who made our way to work on bicycles were required to clock-in early to arrange the sections of the day’s edition. There were always at least a couple of separate pieces, classifieds and sports and such, which we inserted inside the front page section. We called it ‘inserting.’ (For a language-based enterprise, we were not that enterprising as to job descriptions.)

The idea of having the section of the paper carrying the banner headline “Rabbit rescuers” as the outside, front page, would have been laughed from the building. Nothing against rabbits or rescuers, it’s just not front-page news. That’s how my paper arrived.

Alas, the pride is gone. The newspaper plops down on the porch with some pieces upside down and backwards. The front page isn’t in front anymore. The world has turned upside down.

The Tulsa World, too.