The Tomes of Living Folk

The late Loften Mitchell once asked if I had read a particular play of his.  I stammered. But he merely chuckled and said "No!  Your friends and family don't read your stuff until after you're dead!"

My car's trunk is almost full.  Some things will go to Goodwill, others to the public library.  Others will end up at my local used book store.  I hate giving away books, but I have to face the fact that I won't be reading some of these titles.

The classic plays and literature I will keep; but there is no reason to keep some of these obscure sales training books from the 1950s, 60s and 70s (most positive thinking books say the same thing anyway).  I don't think I need these manuals from long-gone appliances.  In addition, I am chucking most of the the "Beware of the Boogieman"  conspiracy books written by Liberals, Conservatives, Christians, Atheists, Environmentalists, Educators, Afrocentrists, Eurocentrists, you name it (I don't discriminate, but I am elimnating most of these titles just the same.  I came to the conclusion long ago, that writing a book on a problem isn't the same as working to solve it.  Talk shows and speeches don't count unless you get your proverbial hands dirty.  Too many philosophers; too few workers).

Then there are the books written by authors with whom I have a personal connection.  I'll keep those. In the near future I will take the plunge and add a reader or tablet to the nerdly arsenal of electronics that I really don't want but need.  I am not an early adopter of anything; I let everybody else deal with the headaches of version 1.0 or 2.0.  But in this case, I will relent.

After all, I am eliminating most of my printed books.  I want to read the new work from my friends, formers students and associates (and I hope they would do the same for me), while we're all still alive.

Always B Positive

Moving the Needle

By choice, my memory is fading.

Has this ever happened to you?  You are walking through a public place and are nearly accosted by someone who recognizes you.  You smile, respond with pleasantries, then inquire as to their well-being, all the while trying to recall their name.

Instead of being direct, you listen and scheme for ways to cleverly distill their name from the tens of thousands in your database.  You offer this person your card, only to discover that neither of you have any.  You exchange phone numbers and have them write it themselves, hoping that they'll add a name to the listing.  You ask them to call your cell phone, hoping that they don't have their number set to ANONYMOUS.  You offer them your  email address, hoping that they will send a self-identifying message.  The exchange ends with a handshake or a hug, and you separate with the other person's identity still unknown (at least to you).

I used to feel guilty about such exchanges.  By choice, I only strive to remember things that stand out.  Sadly, this includes people.  This happens frequently during "Friend" requests in Social Media.  Strangers and online trolls are easily detected and rejected.  But what about the people whom you should know, especially the ones in your own graduating class?  I have to be honest:  Sometimes neither a name nor a face will cause the little red needle on my memory gauge to move.

That leads to a related question:  Am I causing someone else's needle to move?

What are you doing - good or bad - that would stake a claim to that precious corner in someones memory?  What are you going to do professionally?  What are you going to do today?  What are you doing right now?

B Positively Positive!