Can you consider a person you've never met to be a friend? I love to read memoirs, and I've encountered authors over the years who write in a way that makes me feel like I know them. At times, their words and experiences have resonated with me so deeply that I almost feel they could be narrating a chapter from my own life's story. Other times, I've felt a kinship with an author and knew with certainty that if we met in person, we would click and want to talk for hours.
The first time I recall feeling this way was when a friend suggested I read In a Sunburned Country by Bill Bryson before a lengthy work trip to Australia to oversee production of three Quaker Oatmeal commercials. I was very excited about the opportunity to get paid to see a part of the world that I otherwise might never have been able to visit given the cost and distance required to travel there from Chicago.
To say In a Sunburned Country was different than a regular travel guidebook would be an understatement. I was already familiar with Bryson's style from reading A Walk in the Woods in which he hilariously describes his myriad adventures hiking the Appalachian trail, which as anyone who has ever been hiking or has heard of the Trail knows is hardly just a little "walk." From Sunburned, I quickly learned that Australia "has more things that will kill you than anywhere else," and he details those threats extensively. Bryson balances the gloom and doom with a happier description of the Australian population: "The people are immensely likable – cheerful, extroverted, quick-witted, and unfailingly obliging."
Bryson also weaves in stories of Australia's early colonization and how settlers impacted the culture and landscape in ways both good and bad. Reading Bryson's book felt like receiving advice from a favorite uncle. Regaling me with his wickedly funny descriptions of traveling in a foreign country, Bryson's ability to easily connect with others helped me overcome the unease of traveling to a land so far from home.
I think books are like people, in the sense that they'll turn up in your life when you most need them.
Emma Thompson
Years later, the book, The Other Wes Moore: One Name, Two Fates, was sitting out on a table at my local library. The book's grainy cover photo of a boy glancing back at the camera while riding his bike caught my attention. I was hooked upon reading the introduction. In it, the author--Wes Moore--recounts how he was featured in the Baltimore Sun as a Rhodes Scholar around the same time the newspaper was covering the story of another young man named Wes Moore, wanted for his role in killing an off-duty police officer.
This 'other' Wes Moore was apprehended and convicted, yet the author couldn't put him out of his mind. They had similar life circumstances, living on the edges of poverty while growing up in inner-city Baltimore, yet their lives turned out very differently. One is spending his life in prison and the other just became the first black Governor of Maryland.
The chilling truth is that his story could have been mine. The tragedy is that my story could have been his.
Wes Moore
Nearly two decades ago, Governor Moore contacted the other Wes Moore in prison, wanting to learn his story. The two struck up a friendship of sorts, and the 2011 book tells the story of both of their lives through alternating narratives. The humanity and humility displayed by Moore in the book felt inspiring, as was his decision to lead his home state in these divided political times.
Moore's book is also a call to action. It concludes with pages of resources for youth that provide mentoring and support, reminding me of my decision 25 years ago to volunteer with Mercy Home for Boys and Girls, where I met my friend Carissa. I'd love to sit down with Governor Moore and learn more about his decision to meet the other Wes Moore, and how he came to see the person beneath the prisoner. A decision that helped him realize the importance of the people in his own life that, "kept pushing me to see more than what was directly in front of me."
The latest 'book friend' I've discovered is Maggie Smith. She's not the famous actor Maggie Smith, with a royal title and British accent. Instead, she is the Maggie Smith from Central Ohio whose book Keep Moving was introduced to me in early 2021 when I was struggling with pandemic isolation and forging a new identity following my divorce. During that time of significant change for me personally and professionally, I felt very intimately affected by her optimistic and authentic short essays and poems, describing her own journey coming to terms with the end of her marriage.
Instead of struggling at every roadblock, make a new way entirely. Keep an open mind: even the destination may change.
Maggie Smith, Keep Moving
I recently read Smith's memoir, You Could Make This Place Beautiful, published in Spring 2023. The book is as authentic and compelling as her earlier work, and I felt some of her reflections mirroring those in my own journal. While she's clear in the book that her narrative is just that, her perspective on the events that unfolded when her marriage ended, I felt seen in reading her words. Despite the different circumstances of our respective divorces, her descriptions of divorced parenting resonated with me.
One example was in the heartache she experienced on her first Christmas morning without her children. She awoke early, doing her best to distract herself until they got dropped off by their dad at noon. During the time when she waited, two separate unexpected visitors arrived on her doorstep that Christmas morning. The first was a neighbor from the next block, stopping by with some cake, acknowledging the difficulty of being alone on a holiday. Then, Smith's next-door neighbor stopped by with a box of pastries. These acts of kindness and compassion eased her feelings of loneliness. As she writes, "Like the previous Christmas, so much sweetness. I was not alone."
Reading is a solitary activity, yet I often find myself feeling less alone when lost in a book. When a story truly resonates, I sometimes find myself in imaginary conversation with the author. But even better, when I'm bursting at the seams to have a discussion about the book, I phone or text a friend to see if they'd be willing to talk about the feelings books can stir. Sharing a book discussion with friends can sometimes be every bit as gratifying as the story was in the first place.
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