So much for poetry

Tonight in a frantic manner, I chased down sixteen copies of The Giving Tree by Shel Silverstein to leave with my colleagues at Sametz Blackstone Associates. In the chase, I passed through a Barnes and Noble book store where a nice young man at the counter handed me six more copies. Upon flipping the pile over to scan them into his cash register, he noted “Gee, I always had an image of him being an older gentleman.” There was a photograph of the author on the back. “Well, you know, I think he died rather young.” I returned. “Thats a shame.” said the young man. “Yes, but we should be so fortunate to have accomplished so much in a life time…” I said instinctively. Without pause and before I could complete my thought, the young man behind the counter climbed over my sentiment with “Are you a poet sir?” Dumbfounded as to what inspired this young man to cut in with such a question, I responded; “Huh?”

So much for poetry.

A small footnote to the story, I returned home to learn that Shel Silverstein was actually 67 when he passed away. Funny how youth is truly a state of being rather than a chronology of years.

NONE, NADA, ZIP, ZILCH

Why don't you pony up and be the first to add your comment?

Add your own comment...