Of course, there were a million self-help books on these subjects, and plenty of cable TV shows,
and $90-per-hour consultation sessions. America had become a Persian bazaar of self-help.
But there still seemed to be no clear answers. Do you take care of others or take care of your “inner child”?
Return to traditional values or reject tradition as useless? Seek success or seek simplicity? Just Say No or just Do It?
All I knew was this: Morrie, my old professor, wasn’t in the self-help business.
He was standing on the tracks, listening to death’s locomotive whistle, and he was very clear about the important things in life.
I wanted that clarity. Every confused and tortured soul I knew wanted that clarity.
“Ask me anything,” Morrie always said. So I wrote this list:
Death. Fear. Aging. Greed. Marriage. Family. Society. Forgiveness. A meaningful life.
The list was in my bag when I returned to West Newton for the fourth time, a Tuesday in late August
when the air-conditioning at the Logan Airport terminal was not working,
and people fanned themselves and wiped sweat angrily from their foreheads, and every face I saw looked ready to kill somebody.
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