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I read recently that the average American will move 14 times in his or her lifetime. I must admit that I haven’t done my part to keep that average up since my moves have been well below that average. But I do find myself today living half a country away from where I was
born and where I grew up.
Through all this moving most of us would say we have lost track of some if not most of the people we once knew. Yes we still keep in touch on special occasions—Christmas greetings, class reunions, weddings and funerals—but by and large there are big gaps in our day-in day-out knowledge of those who once were so close to us.
New people have entered our friendship circle and older ones have quietly slipped out, not by any intention, but simply by distance and time and familiarity. In today’s universally wired world, we could easily locate them, but even here we still gradually lose touch and the old adage “Out of sight out of mind” becomes even truer.
I think that must be a part, even if a minor one, of the collectable fervor among us. When we move to a new house, it’s comforting to be able to look around us and see the familiar, even if we must squeeze it into a tighter space. It gives continuity to life.
It’s been that way with my books. My books have been companions through my life. Some are mere acquaintances receiving only my passing wave over the back fence. Others have
been my friends, talking, laughing, crying with me through good times and not so good times, their faces as familiar as any friend I’ve had.
But there are others that are family, knowing me as I’ve known them. Always faithful, they’ve allowed my questions to be asked, my doubts to be faced, and my hopes to be
realized. To them I’ve turned many times, knowing they would not disappoint.
When I decided to become a bookseller, I made the decision to include some of my books in my inventory. Some were easy to include because they were only of passing interest even when new to me. Others however, did not go so quietly. A marginal note here and there reminded me of when I allowed them to shape my thoughts and guide my choices. I reluctantly said good-bye to them as I slipped them into a box to be shipped to strange hands.
But I must admit, there are some with which I have no intention of parting. They have
earned their keep and nothing short of needing bread for an empty stomach would
make me think of parting with them. Even then I might opt to fast for a few days!
Why such an attachment to paper and ink, to cloth and paste? Some of it is simply their
consistency through my life. Hardly a day has gone by when I didn’t look up from my desk or chair and see them looking out at me from their cloistered shelves. Whether it was a good day or one that teetered on the brink, they were there.
Some of it was the familiarity of their covers or titles. But that could be said of countless
other things in life. No there was something more, much more with these friends. I’ve come to see that it wasn’t just that they looked familiar; it was what they had given to me. It was the reassuring word or phrase from this one, the reminder of a better day from that one, the promise that today’s troubles are not unique to me from yet another. Overall it was their stories of other people who had walked the same road as I and yet had made it through–scarred but wiser.
What is it then with these friends of mine? It’s not the paper and ink, the look or feel as much as I enjoy and appreicate those things. No, it’s the stories they tell; stories of the endurance of the love of another, of the power of faith even in defeat, of courage even when the night is the darkest and the storm the fiercest. This is what my books have given me, day-in and day-out, and for that, they are my friends.
–Terry Thomley, copyright 2011
Almost all books have some sort of preliminary pages, whether it’s a Preface, Introduction, or Foreword. Many times these sections are penned by someone other than the author and almost always they seek to entice the reader with the desire to continue to turn the pages that follow.
One other preliminary page also stakes its claim to a position near the beginning of many books. Usually called simply “Acknowledgments”, it sometimes takes the form of a dedication by the author to someone who has been a guiding influence in his life. At other times it is an appreciation page where sometimes few or other times many names are singled out for the author’s gratitude for the way they have helped or supported him in
his life and work.
Whatever you choose to call it, devoting such a space in a book is still a refreshing breeze. It’s nice to hear someone thank others for the contributions they have made to ones success or advancement. Today it seems more common to hear the refrain “it’s all
about me”. Such an attitude forgets the many contributions others have made to enable us to be where we are today. Shakespeare captured this so eloquently in As You Like It:
Blow, blow, thou winter wind,
Thou are not so unkind
As man’s ingratitude.
The failure to appreciate that we all stand upon the shoulders of those who have gone before us and who have shared a part of that most precious of all gifts—their time—to make our lives a little richer or brighter is a cruel wind indeed.
It could have been a parent or spouse who never gave up their belief in us and whose encouragement finally won out in the end. For many it’s a teacher or a coach, who saw within us what we couldn’t and sometimes coaxed it and other times snatched it out of us. The list is endless: friends, scout-leaders, spiritual leaders, mentors. All have one thing in common, they saw our potential, our possibilities, often before we did and they would not
allow us to settle for anything less.
I believe the question that demands an answer is have we ever thanked them? Obviously many of those who have helped us are now gone and our words can’t reach them. But even if they are gone, often the greatest “thank-you” isn’t vocal but action—the passing on to others the benefits that were passed on to us. And that we can still do.
But what of those whose ears are still able to hear the words “thank you”? What would our appreciation mean to them? Whether it is a word or an action, you can be sure it is never too late to express a heart-felt word or share a kindness-inspired act of appreciation.
As each of us writes the book of our lives, we can add all the preliminary pages we want. But there is one that we should never exclude; one that acknowledges and appreciates those who have helped us along the way.
Books have so much wisdom to impart with their words, concepts, and challenges to our accepted ideas. But sometimes they impart their wisdom in much more subtle ways. We shouldn’t be so quick to pass over the preliminary pages in order to get to the real message. The few extra minutes it takes hold valuable lessons for us. In the case of the author’s acknowledgments page, this often overlooked part of the books we read reminds us just how important gratitude should be.
–Terry Thomley
Copyright 2011
