I have very few pictures from my past. I save few mementos, at least not in an organized fashion. I have boxes of junk that I’ve pulled out of desk drawers when I’ve moved in the past, but only because I haven’t gotten around to discarding the 99 percent of it that’s junk.
When I talk to others about their past, they frequently pull out photo albums or scrapbooks. I have very little like that to show. If you want to travel through my past, my bookshelves are the place to start.
I spent an hour Monday night idly looking through my books. I wasn’t looking for something to read. I wasn’t even opening them. But spending time looking through books I haven’t read in years — just touching them and reading the titles — is a bit like time travel. Even if I never read a book again, it seems to carry a bit of me in it — whatever I was like when I experienced the book the first time.
This German history book takes me back to when I was a 19-year-old sophomore at the University of Alabama. I was taking a class covering the development of modern Germany starting in the 19th century and looking at how Hitler eventually came to power. Each Monday afternoon, I spent three hours listening to Dr. David McElroy lecture in a dry but informative voice on the third floor of ten Hoor Hall. (We shared more than our names. Oddly, Dr. McElroy and I also drove identical cars.)

Members of Congress can’t tell constituents ‘Merry Christmas’
Thirst for love and understanding drives all of us until it’s quenched
Will Honduras establish the first modern free city? It’s possible
Would getting away from civilization help us live better?
What’s the point of a secret crush if heart isn’t ready to accept love?
‘Let’s Make a Deal’: How democracy is like a dumb old game show
Creative process isn’t pretty, but it provides real joy when it works
Why do we often attract the folks who are most destructive for us?
Even when folks praise my work, my secret fear is I may be a fraud