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11 // Tuesdays with Morrie
When I started this book, I only wanted to see what it was about, what the writing style was. I was simply curious; I had heard many good things about Albom’s “The Five People You Meet in Heaven” (which will also be read in this challenge, especially now that I’ve read “Tuesdays with Morrie”).
I did not intend to actually start reading it. I got through the first 15-or-so sentences, decided to not read this yet, until my eye caught hold of something a few sentences below. What appeared to be a plain start about a professor and his class, became an intriguing start about a professor, a former student and a bond between them as the professor dies of a nervewrecking disease, ALS (Lou Gehrig’s Disease). While I was merely checking it out, I somehow kept reading. The part that really kept me going, was Albom’s description about Morrie’s passion for dancing. Soonthereafter, the book started to have both an interesting aspect to it for me (being a neuropsychology student, I have learned about ALS) as well as an emotional aspect. I never really had moments were I felt tears welling up in my eyes before reaching page 10, but things change. I couldn’t betray my emotions; I had to keep reading. I somehow felt attached to the story. I know what it was that made me feel this way. From the way Albom tells the story you can instantly feel the affection for his professor, for Morrie. This is based on a true story, a true friendship. It hits home. Mitch Albom conveys how much he cared for Morrie; there is love and respect and above all absolute SUBjectivity in this novel. Not only that, but a bluntness which only proved to be a harder slap in the face about a man’s death. But it was not a nasty experience, no. The bluntness of it all, and the descriptions of Morrie’s physical decline only brought you closer to the people described and the person describing them. You were being confronted with a dying man, as a reader. Not only Mitch was sitting in front of him. I was. I could imagine going to Morrie’s house every Tuesday and seeing him sit in front of me, the hibiscus plant in the background. Telling me the lessons he wanted to get across in his final days. The most important one being, “Once you learn how to die, you learn how to live.” Morrie hopes to create understanding… and gratitude in others for having days, weeks, months, years and decades left to live. How materialism doesn’t fit in this picture. You make your own life. Through Mitch, Morrie takes you to a journey of complete acceptance of the loss of one’s most valuable possession: one’s life. And for other people, acceptance of having one. (So use it wisely.) |