What do Derek Jeter, Flannery O’Connor and John Grisham have in common?
Just another day in my life: 20,518 and counting…
Yesterday, while commuting down Route 287 (the vertebral artery in a map of New Jersey), I was listening to an audible.com recording of “Everything That Rises Must Converge.” This is the collection of short stories O’Connor was working on when she died in 1964. When I was younger… less than 10,000 days old… O’Connor was my smart and quirky writing goddess.
But yesterday, things were different. I was bored by lyrical stories of the historical Deep South. This unsettled me, and I turned it off.
I switched instead to a recording of ”The Racketeer,” the current Grisham best-seller. After only the first few minutes, this book had me hooked. I’m loving it.
This initially unsettled me even more. How could this happen? O’Connor vs. Grisham should be no contest. I could see my younger self self-righteously laughing at me. “Look at you,” he’d say. “You’re just like everyone else.”
And he’d be right. But I wouldn’t say that to him. I’d let the years go by and let him find that out for himself.
This is where the Yankee captain dives into the stands and saves my sanity. The evidence is right there on the back page of yesterday’s New York Post.
Yes, I’m getting older. No, I’ve never played major league baseball. Yes, I know, things will probably be very different in April.
But yesterday, for one day in my life, I may have been in better shape than Derek Jeter.