Editor’s note: Beautifully written, this fable of an 87-year-old man spending a year in a town in Georgia (feels like Savannah) pulled at my heart and faith strings. The most powerful of Levi’s life commentaries for me is Chapter 35, where his character, Theo, riffs on the concepts of sadness and joy in a manner that suggests the benefit of seeing both as they are.
Favorite excerpt:
Asher leaned in and spoke softly, “So, you’re an expert in sadness”?
Theo shrugged. “I suppose anyone as old as me could say the same. When we’re young, we’re usually too busy or too self-absorbed to see it, but by the time one is almost ninety, this world has beaten the sadness into him quite deeply. Every week, there is some tragedy or reminder to keep it alive and well.”
Asher: “Theo, I appreciate that you’re such a sensitive man. You have a tender heart.”
“Not tender, Asher. Broken. My expertise in sadness is hard-earned. But I realize more and more that it is a gift. Living with sadness, accepting it, is easier than trying to pretend it isn’t there. It is another of life’s great mysteries that sadness and joy can coexist so compatibly with one another. In fact, on this side of heaven, I wonder if one can be complete without the other”.
“You don’t strike me as a sad man, Theo. If you are, you’re good at disguising it.”
“Thank you. I hope it’s true. There is no virtue in advertising one’s sadness. But there is no wisdom in denying it either. And there is the beautiful possibility that great love can grow out of sadness if it is well-tended. Sadness can make us bitter or wise. We get to choose.”
Thanks to Meg Ongaro for sending me this book!
Peace,
Tim McCarthy
