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.)

U.S. gives $529 million to build car with worse gas mileage than SUV
There’s little unity to be found in our supposedly United States
My need to win isn’t pretty, but it’s key to who I’ve always been
Life is a game of hide-and-seek; we’re lost if we no longer seek
‘Thanks for sharing your process’ is wiser than responding in anger
Friday nights still take me back to sidelines of high school football
It’s great to visit Memory Lane, but it’s fatal to try to live there
We learn lessons as we mature, but it’s usually too late by then