Mitch Albom writes for the Detroit Free Press, and has been voted America's No. 1 sports columnist ten times by the Associated Press Sports Editors. Albom, a former professional musician, hosts a daily radio show on WJR in Detroit and appears regularly on ESPN's "The Sports Reporters." He is the author of Bo and Fab Five, both national bestsellers, and has also published four collections of his columns. He lives with his wife, Janine, in Michigan.
A Detroit Free Press journalist and best-selling author recounts his weekly visits with a dying teacher who years before had set him straight.
As a student at Brandeis University in the late 1970s, Albom was especially drawn to his sociology professor, Morris Schwartz. On graduation he vowed to keep in touch with him, which he failed to do until 1994, when he saw a segment about Schwartz on the TV program Nightline, and learned that he had just been diagnosed with Lou Gehrig's disease. By then a sports columnist for the Detroit Free Press and author of six books, including Fab Five, Albom was idled by the newspaper strike in the Motor City and so had the opportunity to visit Schwartz in Boston every week until the older man died. Their dialogue is the subject of this moving book in which Schwartz discourses on life, self-pity, regrets, aging, love and death, offering aphorisms about each‘e.g., "After you have wept and grieved for your physical losses, cherish the functions and the life you have left." Far from being awash in sentiment, the dying man retains a firm grasp on reality. An emotionally rich book and a deeply affecting memorial to a wise mentor, who was 79 when hedied in 1995. (Sept.)
"Mitch Albom's book is a gift to mankind." --Philadelphia
Inquirer "A wonderful book, a story of the heart told by a writer
with soul." --Los Angeles Times
"An extraordinary contribution to the literature of death." --Boston Globe "One of those books that kind of sneaked up and grabbed people's hearts over time." --Milwaukee Journal Sentinel
"An elegantly simple story about a writer getting a second chance to discover life through the death of a friend." --Tampa Tribune "As sweet and nourishing as fresh summer corn . . . the book begs to be read aloud." --USA Today