TWO STORIES AND ONLY TWO?

Two stories in 5000 years are not a lot of stories.

Is that for slow readers too?

Or do speed readers change the numbers?

I have the feeling Mr. Eco is repeating the writer’s mantra: Buy More Books.

Sounds good to me, but why not check in with other writers.

 

 

Let’s call out one of two stories.

A man goes on a journey?

Adventures of Huckleberry Finn.

Referring to Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, H. L. Mencken noted that his discovery of this classic American novel was “the most stupendous event of my whole life”; Ernest Hemingway declared that “all modern American literature stems from this one book,” while T. S. Eliot called Huck “one of the permanent symbolic figures of fiction, not unworthy to take a place with Ulysses, Faust, Don Quixote, Don Juan, Hamlet.”

 

A kid goes on an adventure to literary immortality.

Not a bad plan, and it’s stuck around.

If Huck Finn is one story, The Great Gatsby is the other.

He is the stranger who comes to town.

When you want to better yourself, what do you do?

 

When you’re a nobody from nowhere, and it’s not enough to get you through the day, you’ve got to push.

When giving yourself the push that turns into a habit, things change.

No one else may notice, but you do.

 

Start Pushing, But Not Too Hard

Based on what I’ve learned and read, and work to practice, the first step is learning to be quiet.

You don’t need to be a hermit, just notice when you add something to the conversation that doesn’t matter.

Do that often enough, and argue that it matters more than anyone else knows but you, and you may want to block out some alone time.

Here’s why:

 

How many times do you need to meet a loner who needs to be around other people, but resists.

And they make you feel like a freak because you enjoy company.

Which of two stories are they?

They make their own story where they take a journey, then become the stranger who comes to town.

Do you know anyone like this? Everyone is like this.

They may even have a favorite month of the year.

If something goes wrong, whose fault will it be?

Not theirs.

 

The Other Stories To Tell

I keep silent score for my good deeds both large and small.

Mostly small. Then something happens to sweep the table.

How many times have you graced anyone with your presence and felt good about it?

It’s not a journey, you’re not a stranger, and the only thing that matters is spending time together.

My sneaky and clever and loving relatives somehow planned and executed a surprise party.

I walked into the room unaware, and slowly got aware.

These were my people. Some I met when I was a kid, others I met when they were kids.

The kids I knew even brought their kids.

Three generations all in one place to show it can still be done.

The only thing missing were all of our dogs.

I saw the crowd of thirty and thought:

 

Thirty hugs later, thirty beers later,  and it may have been the best party of the year, any year.

I’ve passed by windows into restaurants and bars where things had shifted into high gear and thought, ‘what a great gathering.’

That’s the feeling I got on Saturday, and it was a great gathering.

I felt the feels of connections and companionship.

If I could have wrapped my arms around them all at once and squeezed until the first rib cracked, it would have been a fitting crescendo.

As it turned out, no one was harmed by a happy birthday.

That was my big present. I was lifted.