I needed to fill a position at The Sun recently. Many accomplished people applied; regrettably, more than a few failed to proofread their own letters. One man misspelled his own name; a recent college graduate said she prided herself on her “strong work ethnic.”
The person I ended up hiring wrote that she’d been introduced to The Sun only recently, when she’d been going through a painful time. She said, “My therapist described it as a treasure, and he’s absolutely right. . . . In the few months that I have been a subscriber, it has been my experience that it never fails to show up in my mailbox when I need it the most — on those days of sadness and loneliness or just plain boredom. I don’t believe I’ve ever felt a genuine kinship to a magazine before, but I do with The Sun.”
