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.)

Surreal dream wakes, shakes me; which is reality, which is dream?
Advice to fast food restaurant execs: stop ‘innovating,’ do the basics right
You finally have to stop making excuses for people who hurt you
Group conflict isn’t as simple as tales of good guys vs. bad guys
Without the state, who would plow roads? We and our neighbors will
Looking for truth in random noise? Or is there meaning for me in this?
Life’s path can change direction when you’re ready for real love
In the great new culture war over Thanksgiving shopping, I’m neutral