My father was a writer. He wrote all of his life, inflicting upon many of us his novels, plays, articles, essays, and self-help books. Some were marvelous; some merely well-intentioned. But of all the things he wrote, his journal is his legacy: by turns wise and bewildering, it neared 1,100 type-written pages when he died in 2010. Although perused many times, this is the first time it will be read - cover to cover, page after page.
Wednesday, March 19, 2014
Remaining Anonymous
For better or worse most seem intent upon remaining anonymous and so to offer them an occasion to lead or to be in any way prominent -- the best at something where they are not being part of a team, or better yet a group or an even grander collective -- is to drive them farther inward.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment