I’ve lived in the Washington, D.C. area for decades. I live in the suburbs, true, but since suburbs orbit their star like dutiful planets, I’ve had quite a bit to do with the Capital City through the years. I have commuted there, edited a magazine from there, pounded its streets and marveled at its cultural riches.

And now, I’m watching my city disappear. The White House partially demolished. The Kennedy Center closing this summer. The Washington Post vanishing before my eyes.

I heard the news of yesterday’s Post firings from the blog of a former Post reporter. “Democracy dies in darkness. Indeed!” was the headline. This morning, I think, I’ll process this further after I read the paper. Then I catch myself. My paper is the Post. How will they cover the news of their decimation? How will they cover sports without sports reporters, local news without Metro reporters, international news without foreign bureaus? Easy answers: they won’t.

When we moved here one of the things I was most excited about was reading the Washington Post every day. It would be my hometown paper — and it has been all these years. I’m still a subscriber, the last of a vanishing breed. I had hoped the paper would outlive me. Now I’m not so sure.

The barbarians are not just at the gates. They’re inside the castle, taking it apart.