Departures
“Where do you want to go today?” - from a Microsoft ad campaign
There is that iconic moment in the film Forrest Gump, when Forrest stops running after three years, two months, 16 days, and 16 hours and reflects, “Mama always said ‘Put the past behind you before you can move on.’ ”
It was time for Forrest to stop. It was time to move on.
I had my own Forrest moment just this morning. A fellow Medium writer, John P. Weiss, had penned another beautiful piece, this time about his recent visit to a bookstore in New Orleans. Not the kind of bookstore where the titles are sanitarily arranged by genre with their spines or covers standing at attention.
No, this bookstore is the kind where the books are stacked everywhere, creating a wonderful maze of mystery, exploration, and potential discovery. Each title is a passport to somewhere. You can almost hear the titles whispering, “Just looking, eh? Search here.”
As I read the Medium piece and studied John’s photographs and drawings, I was transported back to similar bookstores I had visited in New York City, London, and most recently, Paris.
These are bookstores where you can slouch on a couch — Watch out for those springs! — or sit in a chair that is older than most of the books. You can also climb a ladder and stretch to reach for just the right title on (the choice is yours).
And don’t be surprised when the store’s resident house cat jumps in your lap.
Marie Kondo need not apply. The “joy” is already here.
Romance aside, these museums can easily overwhelm. But I have avoided that feeling — as I do in all bookstores — by heading to the history section, specifically the section on World War II.
My introduction to that period came when I was a teenager, listening to my parents retell what it was like to live and work on the Homefront. They might not have carried guns, but they were doing their part to vanquish our enemies.
My dad was too old to serve in the military, so he supported the war effort by managing an assembly line that made diesel engines for our troops in the Pacific. My mother was his secretary. They met, and, well, there was a war on, right?
I was hooked. I studied history and the teaching of history in college, and eventually became a high school history teacher.
It is safe after all of these years to admit that I rushed through periods of history that were of less interest to me — say, the Jacksonian period — to spend a good chunk of the second semester studying the war and its prequel, World War I, and its aftermath, the Cold War, especially Vietnam.
Consequently, out there in America is a large number of adults who may not remember early political scandals, but when we celebrate the 75th anniversary of D-Day this coming June, I’ll bet a number of them will easily fill in the crossword puzzle clue of “1944 invasion site in France.”
If you just spelled out “N-O-R-M-A-N-D-Y” in your mind, thank you. My work is done.
I will also admit that some of my early interest in World War II was tinged with romanticism especially of the air war over Europe and the Pacific.
The airplanes American factories produced in vast numbers were second to none. From a design standpoint, most were, well…beautiful. I hesitate with that last word because I have to juxtapose it with the fact that many were also lethal killing machines.
And I marveled — and still, do — at the lads, who in their late teens and early twenties flew aboard those planes. Maybe I devoured books about these young flyers, I reason now, out of extreme gratitude. Tens of thousands never came home. Could I have done what they did?
But mostly, I think, I became entrenched with the period from 1939–1945 for two reasons:
- This war consumed upwards of 80 million people — military and civilian deaths. And underlying it was the most basic of human motivations: retribution, hate, survival, and feelings of superiority.
- The war also illuminates the critical themes we still wrestle with today both at home and abroad:
- Good vs evil; democracy vs totalitarianism
- The role the U.S. should play in the world
- Our need and ability to pull together during times of crisis
- Government’s role in the economy and society
- Inequality and racism (vis a vis the internment of Japanese Americans and the segregation of the military)
- Anti-Semitism
This war cries out for study and understanding.
It will come as no surprise, then, that my home bookshelf is largely devoted to the grand scope of World War II, be it the war’s causes, military campaigns, the Homefront with its patriotic ephemera, or the Holocaust. I have struggled throughout my life to read anything else — especially fiction — because there are so many books, so many angles, so many personal stories about World War II still to read. Still, so much to understand.
Until this morning.
I can’t pinpoint the epiphany — maybe it was when I was looking at the photo of stack after stack of books in the aforementioned article — but something said, “Time to put that past behind you.” Maybe it’s also because I’m now 68. In that great terminal of life, there are other flights being called, other departure gates to visit. A sampling:
There’s John Gierach’s series of collected stories on fly fishing, my later-in-life, wish-I-had-discovered-it-earlier mindful activity.
There’s the biography of restaurateur and raconteur, George Lang, my friend, Les, recommended because of my love of cooking. Who doesn’t like to eat?
There’s The Mapmaker’s Wife, a true tale of love, murder, and survival in the Amazon that my friend, Sarah gave me. If you can’t be somewhat intrigued by “love, murder, and survival,” you’re not human, right? Plus, it’s non-fiction!
There’s Norman Mailer’s Moonfire, the story of Apollo 11’s mission to the moon and back fifty years ago this July. The real story is so much better than the one the conspiracy theorists have concocted.
And then there’s My Life in France, Julia Child’s autobiography of her years in France and the basis for the film, Julie & Julia. Yes, I have made her Boeuf Bourguignon, and it’s that good. (The key is pat dry the cubes of beef before you attempt to brown them.)
All of these titles sit on a shelf behind me as I type.
As I momentarily rest my fingers on the keys, I can hear them whisper, “All readers may board. We’ve saved a seat just for you.”
Many thanks to Susan Rooks, the Grammar Goddess, for her support. She is a fellow “traveler.”
I am a certified executive coach and principal at Quetico Leadership & Career Coaching. I partner with individuals to remove the obstacles that stand in their way of being truly engaged in their work and of achieving their desired impact.
Check out “Getting Unstuck,” the podcast I co-host with my buddy Kirsten Richert at https://soundcloud.com/gettingunstuck
and now on iTunes
