The book on the shelf

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Once, long ago, my dad wrote and self-published a book. It was titled “Conquering the Corporate Career,” and I fucking loooooooved it. Hell, I still love it. Pop is a pretty humble guy, but he could flat-out, straight-up write. And though Conquering the Corporate Career probably sold, oh, 500 copies, it was a magnificent accomplishment.

I digress.

Back in 1991, during my freshman year at the University of Delaware, I donated a copy to the Morris Library here on campus. The first time I saw it on the shelf—on March 26, 1991—I turned to page 69 (because I was/am juvenile and silly) and inscribed my name and the date.

And that was that.

Except, that wasn’t that. Through the years, I’ve returned to Delaware—sometimes to visit, more often to speak with a journalism class. And nearly every time I’m here, I enter the Morris Library, walk up to the third floor, locate the smallish business book section and sign my name, the date and—often—a few words about what’s going on. Just look at the above photo. It tells the story well.

Why do I do this? Honestly, I have no clue. Nostalgia? Loyalty? Habit? Whatever the case, it’s a ritual I’m wed to; one that reminds me of a 14-year-old boy dazzled by his hero’s accomplishment.

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