Tuesdays with Morrie: An Old Man, a Young Man, and Life's Greatest Lesson

Tuesdays with Morrie: An Old Man, a Young Man, and Life's Greatest Lesson

Mitch Albom

Language: English

Pages: 192

ISBN: 076790592X

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub

Maybe it was a grandparent, or a teacher, or a colleague. Someone older, patient and wise, who understood you when you were young and searching, helped you see the world as a more profound place, gave you sound advice to help you make your way through it.

For Mitch Albom, that person was Morrie Schwartz, his college professor from nearly twenty years ago.

Maybe, like Mitch, you lost track of this mentor as you made your way, and the insights faded, and the world seemed colder. Wouldn't you like to see that person again, ask the bigger questions that still haunt you, receive wisdom for your busy life today the way you once did when you were younger?

Mitch Albom had that second chance. He rediscovered Morrie in the last months of the older man's life. Knowing he was dying, Morrie visited with Mitch in his study every Tuesday, just as they used to back in college. Their rekindled relationship turned into one final “class”: lessons in how to live.

Tuesdays with Morrie is a magical chronicle of their time together, through which Mitch shares Morrie's lasting gift with the world.

It’s been ten years since Mitch Albom first shared the wisdom of Morrie Schwartz with the world. Now–twelve million copies later–in a new afterword, Mitch Albom reflects again on the meaning of Morrie’s life lessons and the gentle, irrevocable impact of their Tuesday sessions all those years ago. . .

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projects and to the inner city for fieldwork. They went to Washington for protest marches, and Morrie often rode the busses with his students. On one trip, he watched with gentle amusement as women in flowing skirts and love beads put flowers in soldiers' guns, then sat on the lawn, holding hands, trying to levitate the Pentagon. "They didn't move it," he later recalled, "but it was a nice try." One time, a group of black students took over Ford Hall on the Brandeis campus, draping it in a banner

What we take, we must replenish. "It's only fair," he says. The Tenth Tuesday We Talk About Marriage I brought a visitor to meet Morrie. My wife. He had been asking me since the first day I came. "When do I meet Janine?" "When are you bringing her?" I'd always had excuses until a few days earlier, when I called his house to see how he was doing. It took a while for Morrie to get to the receiver. And when he did, I could hear the fumbling as someone held it to his ear. He could no longer lift

this: "If you don't want to do it, Morrie, it's okay. I'll come up and say good-bye anyhow." Later, Morrie would grin mischievously and say, "I'm getting to him." And he was. Koppel now referred to Morrie as "a friend." My old professor had even coaxed compassion out of the television business. For the interview, which took place on a Friday afternoon, Morrie wore the same shirt he'd had on the day before. He changed shirts only every other day at this point, and this was not the other day, so

Maybe he can't deal with that burden. I tell everyone I know to carry on with the life they know-don't ruin it because I am dying." But he's my brother, I said. "I know," Morrie said. "That's why it hurts." I saw Peter in my mind when he was eight years old, his curly blond hair puffed into a sweaty ball atop his head. I saw us wrestling in the yard next to our house, the grass stains soaking through the knees of our jeans. I saw him singing songs in front of the mirror, holding a brush as a

a statement. Well. Could I? "How about Tuesday?" Tuesday would be good, I said. Tuesday would be fine. In my sophomore year, I take two more of his courses. We go beyond the classroom, meeting now and then just to talk. I have never done this before with an adult who was not a relative, yet I feel comfortable doing it with Morrie, and he seems comfortable making the time. "Where shall we visit today?" he asks cheerily when I enter his office. In the spring, we sit under a tree outside the

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