Tuesdays with Morrie

[Editor's note: This program, originally recorded in 1997, has been updated with a new introduction.]--TUESDAYS WITH MORRIE inspired readers with Morrie Schwartz's insightful and compelling outlook on life. The book has been re-released on audio with a new introduction by author Mitch Albom, a sportswriter and radio host whose reading captures the essence of Schwartz. Although the new introduction adds little, the bestseller remains a thought-provoking chronicle of Schwartz's struggle with Lou Gehrig's disease. Albom's reading superbly balances his emotional attachment to Schwartz with the need to avoid sounding overly sentimental. While Albom's delivery could not be better, perhaps the most important reason to listen is the actual recordings of Schwartz replayed at the end of the book. They demonstrate that, although a book can capture words, only the tape recorder can fully capture the person behind the words. D.J.S. Winner of AudioFile Earphones Award (c) AudioFile 2004, Portland, Maine

August 18, 1997
As a student at Brandeis University in the late 1970s, Albom was especially drawn to his sociology professor, Morris Schwartz. On graduation he vowed to keep in touch with him, which he failed to do until 1994, when he saw a segment about Schwartz on the TV program Nightline, and learned that he had just been diagnosed with Lou Gehrig's disease. By then a sports columnist for the Detroit Free Press and author of six books, including Fab Five, Albom was idled by the newspaper strike in the Motor City and so had the opportunity to visit Schwartz in Boston every week until the older man died. Their dialogue is the subject of this moving book in which Schwartz discourses on life, self-pity, regrets, aging, love and death, offering aphorisms about each--e.g., "After you have wept and grieved for your physical losses, cherish the functions and the life you have left." Far from being awash in sentiment, the dying man retains a firm grasp on reality. An emotionally rich book and a deeply affecting memorial to a wise mentor, who was 79 when hedied in 1995.