This Week’s
Attitude

By Neil S. Friedman

Revisiting An Unforgettable Best-Seller

One of Hollywood’s all-time finest actors died several weeks ago. In one of his final roles, Jack Lemmon passionately portrayed Morrie Schwartz in the made-for-television movie, "Tuesdays With Morrie." The telefilm is based on the national best-seller of the same name that is nearing its fourth consecutive year on The New York Times Book Review nonfiction list.

The following is the column I wrote after completing the book several years ago. I recently reread portions and still found it to be as affecting as the first time.

Occasionally, I read and hear incessant raves about a particular movie or book, but, lacking youthful impulsiveness, I don’t spontaneously rush to see what the cultural fuss is all about.

Such was the case with the book I’m about to acknowledge. It’s been on The New York Times’ Non-Fiction Best Seller List for 18 months, which was not necessarily a justifiable motive to read it. I usually prefer popular fiction, but, once in a while, I’ll delve into a nonfiction work if it quickly engages my attention and if it concerns a subject that might pique my interest.

My oldest — literally and chronologically — friend, recommended the book to me, but I procrastinated pursuing it. With a stack of unread paperbacks already in my bookcase, I welcomed, but disregarded, his advice. However, a short time later, he again suggested I read it.

Anyway, the next time I was browsing at Barnes & Noble, I noticed the rather small, hard cover volume available at a 30% discount and decided to buy it, although I did not rush home and start reading it. I laid the book on a shelf, letting a thin layer of dust settle on it while I indulged in more escapist, page-turning fare.

Then another close friend told me she’d just read the book, and strongly endorsed it. Neither Larry nor Sharon, I learned, was aware of the other’s recommendation.

I finally read the book one weekend and was remarkably satisfied. It took less than four hours, over two days, to read the short chronicle, but I savored every word.

Written by Mitch Albom, a popular sports columnist and writer for the Detroit Free Press, Tuesdays With Morrie is an unquestionably wonderful book. As the sub-title suggests, this 192-page work is about "an old man, a young man, and life’s great lesson." Albom decided to write the book about his mentor, a college professor, when he learned he was dying.

The subject was one of the primary reasons for my latent appeal for the book. I’m not particularly fond of books concerning someone dying or suffering from a disease and learning how they courageously exhibited dignified behavior, while enduring the ravages of Mother Nature.

That distinction notwithstanding, Tuesdays With Morrie, published in 1997, is a wonderfully touching, poignant portrait of a man who resumes an avowed relationship with his professor after a long separation and resumes his education without texts or a prefixed curriculum. Nevertheless, he learns the ultimate lesson — about life.

After promising to remain in contact with a professor he greatly admired after college, Albom neglects the pledge to pursue his own interests. However, in 1994, he sees his onetime professor interviewed on "Nightline" and realizes his mentor is afflicted with ALS (amyotrophic lateral sclerosis), a terminal condition inappropriately named for Yankee great Lou Gehrig, the disease’s most famous victim.

Before he’s reunited with his student, Schwartz had decided not to let the disease become the focus of his final years. Instead, he opted to make the best of his remaining time and becomes what Albom refers to as "a human textbook," offering advice on life’s great lessons.

Typically, books — or movies — centered around this topic can be excessively maudlin, unduly sentimental and too saccharine. Nonetheless, avoids these propensities while summoning genuine emotions, not to mention several tearful episodes.

After seeing Schwartz interviewed, Albom decides to fulfill the pledge he made 16 years earlier. As the story unfolds, it retraces the two men’s, going back and forth from their introduction in college to their lives up to the point they reconnect.

The reunion incites Albom, which results in this chronicle about the refreshing lessons he’s learned from a man whose body is slowly deteriorating, but whose mind relentlessly continues to exhort life’s wonders until he no longer is able.

At one point Schwartz notes, "When you learn how to die, you learn how to live."

The book is filled with numerous, simple, life-affirming aphorisms and reassuring incites. Some are not wholly original, with philosophical and biblical origins, but they are presented in a fresh fashion from the mind of an incredible, enlightened human being, who stresses that it’s "never too late" to learn or change.

Knowing Schwartz is fated to die does not detract from the book’s engrossing tale, nor does it divert the reader from the fundamental wisdom offered throughout.

Early on, Albom writes, "A funeral was held in lieu of graduation.
Once again the student—and the astute reader—learns from the professor. This time, however, the lessons are about how to enjoy life with purpose and meaning."

By the way, the title refers to the weekday when the "class" was held. Ironically, the professor’s funeral also took place on a Tuesday. As Albom writes in closing: "No books were required. The subject was the meaning of life...The teaching goes on."

There are presumably few who’ve ever been fortunate to have anyone, much less a teacher, who’s had such a profound influence on their life. Perhaps that’s why this little book has had such a substantial impact. Many of us would gladly welcome that kind of special relationship in their lifetime.

I strongly suggest if you have not yet read this book, drive, walk, run, skip or hop to the nearest bookstore and buy a copy. Anyone with a compassionate heart and a passion for life — male or female — will NOT be disappointed. And that’s an attitude I guarantee this week or any other.