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This category only includes cookies that ensures basic functionalities and security features of the website. I read it all in one sitting, in under two hours.
I read the 20th anniversary edition. I can not believe it has been around that long. I remember when it first came out. I did not read it at that time, so I am glad I finally took the time to read it. This is a sweet story, about a man who reconnects with his old college professor, who is now dying from ALS. I love the special bond they had when Mitch was a student in his college classes.
Their reunion at the end of Morrie's life is bittersweet. If they had remained in touch, they could have had so much more time together to enjoy each other's company. As it is, they only have month's together before Morrie's death. Mitch begins to meet up with Morrie every Tuesday, to talk about life and death.
They meet over the course of several months, right up until the week Morrie dies. Their conversations are very deep. Facing his impending death, Morrie has some remarkable insights into dying.
He comes across as very brave and very accepting of the whole process. Even though I understand every point he was trying to make, I still find it hard to accept the inevitability of death. I admit to feeling some jealousy towards Mitch, for getting to have such a strong bond with such a remarkable man.
I wish I had someone in my life as kind, loving and insightful as Morrie. I received a free copy from Blogging for Books in exchange for my honest review. Das Buch wurde irgendwo empfohlen, da es jemanden ganz toll beeinflusst hat. Bei mir kommen keine Ex-Studenten vorbei, weil ich kein Professor bin.
Das ist Morrie aber anscheinend nie aufgefallen. Warum hat er nie sein Haus verkauft, ist in eine kleine Mietwohnung gezogen und hat das restliche Geld gespendet, wenn Geld doch so unwichtig ist? Wenn jemand gerne joggt, dann will er nicht die Abende rumsitzen mit den Kindern seines Bruders, dann will er lieber joggen.
Morrie sagt, ich solle mich so verhalten wie er - aber was ist, wenn ich feststelle, dass macht mir gar keinen Spass? Ich mag gerne Reisen und Snowboarden. Das kostet Geld. Und warum schreibt er ein Buch statt einfach Zeit mit seinem alten Freund zu verbringen? This book bored me. It's not that it's a bad book, I just found it boring. I felt like it was trying to be too deep and it over shot it a little.
But I found it boring and it unremarkable. I read the whole book, and was involved in a few weeks of discussion on the book, but I am still just left with a nondescript feeling of boredom. It was a heart warming tale but I was honestly bored. I fell asleep with the book in my hand countless times and it took me the full lending period of this library book to read it that never happens for me. I do not know if it just wasn't the right time in my life to read the book or what, but it definitely didn't speak to me as I had hoped and I do not plan to read it again.
I must be a hard case as I did not get teary eyed or felt enlightened and renewed in purpose for life like so many apparently got from this book. I listened to it as a audiobook. The messages were simplistic to me, shun the material, embrace the human emotion.
Of course if you have no material to begin with that may not resound with you. We will all die, that is for sure, the one certainty in life. Some of us will go peacefully in our sleep some will go in agony as in the ALS sentence or other such grisly way.
Morrie's sermons to Mitch are lessons we should all take note for sure. I will certainly keep them in mind, as I was aware and needed only a reminder. Mitch Albom was really crazy popular with this book for a while and he's since sort of faded into the distance. I think it had plenty to offer in the way of people thinking about the life they're leading and how they want to 'go out' or look back on it in their older years.
It was good, but I think the hype surrounding it took over a bit. Book that changed my world. I have read it only five times and keep on reading. Everytime I have found something new. This is one of those books that you always intend to read one day, but never do, until it comes into your hands.
It could be a quick, easy read but it is worth sampling just a little at a time to think about each day's conversation and often, the events in your own life. I like his honesty in sharing his life, feelings and motivations. The book will have special resonance with those who have cared for a terminally ill loved one and those whose life work is caring for the elderly and terminally ill.
It is well worth taking the time to read it. This is a very moving account of a professor's last days, struggling with ALS, and his former student. While Morrie's lessons and aphorisms carry the weight of a man who has reflect on life from a sociologist's and profressor's perspective, this book is mostly powerful from its simplicity. This is precisely its message: it's the little things in life that matter - relishing the good, learning from the bad.
It's a delightful reminder of what's important in being human. I've been working on clearing my own shelves and when I don't have anything pressing I grab something.
I wanted something that wasn't too big or lengthy and this definitely hit the spot. The subject is heavy. I suspect most of us have either read it or read a synopsis by now. He knew it the day he gave up dancing. He had always been a dancer, my old professor. Rock and roll, big band, the blues.
He loved them all. He would close his eyes and with a blissful smile begin to move to his own sense of rhythm. Morrie danced by himself. He twisted and twirled, he waved his arms like a conductor on amphetamines, until sweat was dripping down the middle of his back. No one there knew he was a prominent doctor of sociology, with years of experience as a college professor and several well-respected books.
They just thought he was some old nut. Once, he brought a tango tape and got them to play it over the speakers. Then he commandeered the floor, shooting back and forth like some hot Latin lover.
When he finished, everyone applauded. He could have stayed in that moment forever. But then the dancing stopped. He developed asthma in his sixties. His breathing became labored. One day he was walking along the Charles River, and a cold burst of wind left him choking for air.
He was rushed to the hospital and injected with Adrenalin. A few years later, he began to have trouble walking. At a birthday party for a friend, he stumbled inexplicably. Another night, he fell down the steps of a theater, startling a small crowd of people. But Morrie, who was alwa ys more in touch with his insides than the rest of us, knew something else was wrong. This was more than old age. He was weary all the time. He had trouble sleeping.
He dreamt he was dying. He began to see doctors. Lots of them. They tested his blood. They tested his urine. They put a scope up his rear end and looked inside his intestines. The lab report came back suggesting a neurological problem, and Morrie was brought in for yet another series of tests.
In one of those tests, he sat in a special seat as they zapped him with electrical current—an electric chair, of sorts—and studied his neurological responses. Your times are slow. What did that mean? There was no known cure. Nobody knew. He sat with Morrie and Charlotte for nearly two hours, patiently answering their questions.
When they left, the doctor gave them some information on ALS, little pamphlets, as if they were opening a bank account. Outside, the sun was shining and people were going about their business. A woman ran to put money in the parking meter.
Another carried groceries.
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