Mitch Albom, author

Not many Filipinos may know Mitch Albom. I first bumped into him at a Barnes & Noble (B & N) bookstore in Naperville, Illinois. It was sometime in April 2010, and we were on our annual apostolic mission to the United States to visit three granddaughters, Christine, 16, Nicole, 11, and Gisele, 7.

Well actually, I didn’t meet Mitch Albom in person. I was browsing through the bookshelves at B & N, which was my usual pastime when everyone was in school or at work, and a small book caught my eye. I picked it up and after a few pages, “Have a Little Faith” by Mitch Albom was my companion for the rest of the morning.

Last week, Mitch Albom was in town to sign copies of his latest bestseller “The First Phone Call from Heaven” courtesy of National Bookstore. It was his first visit to the Philippines. In an interview with Karen Davila on ABS-CBN’s

“Headstart,” he said that he had received several earlier invitations to visit the country but was unable to come for one reason or another. This time, after Supertyphoon “Yolanda” hit the Visayas region, causing tremendous destruction and loss of lives, he decided to make the trip; not just for book signing but also to visit Tacloban and to help out with other friends in assisting disaster victims in affected communities. As with his other books, part of the profits goes to various charities that he oversees from his home in Michigan.

A few notes on Albom.

Mitchell David “Mitch” Albom, 55, is one of America’s best known authors and sportswriters. A graduate of Columbia School of Journalism, he became one of the most award-winning sportswriters of his era. He was named best sports columnist in the country 13 times by the Associated Press Sports Editors and won best feature writing honors from the same organization seven times.

But it was his book “Tuesdays with Morrie” that brought him worldwide attention. In the book, he relates the times (Tuesdays) he spent with a former professor, Morrie Schwartz, who was dying from Lou Gehrig’s disease. He would visit his friend every Tuesday and they would talk about life and death. To pay for Schwartz’s medical bills, Albom put out a book based on their weekly meetings and discussions. It was rejected by numerous publishing houses but eventually accepted by Doubleday. After a brief appearance on the “Oprah Winfrey Show,” it became a national bestseller and today, it is one of the top-selling memoirs of all time with translations in 41 languages.

“Tuesdays with Morrie” was followed by “The Five People You Meet in Heaven,” another bestseller that became a television movie of the year in 2004.

The book titled “Have a Little Faith” that brought Albom to my attention is his second nonfiction work dedicated to his father Ira Albom, “In Whom I Have Always Believed.” In it, Mitch Albom is asked by an 82-year-old rabbi friend to deliver his eulogy. As is often with matters of faith, Albom thought he was being asked a favor. In fact, he realized he had been given one.

* * *

A few passages from the book provide us with lessons that may help us through difficult times.

On one occasion, the rabbi tells a joke about a man who complains to his doctor that his wife, when angry, gets historical.

“You mean hysterical,” the doctor says.

“No, historical,” the man says. “She lists the history of every wrong thing I’ve ever done!”

The rabbi knew that marriage was an endangered institution. He had officiated for couples, seen them split, then officiated when they married someone else.

“I think people expect too much from marriage today,” he said. “They expect perfection. Every moment should be bliss. That’s TV or movies. But that is not the human experience.

“….twenty good minutes here, forty good minutes there, it adds up to something beautiful. The trick is when things aren’t so great, you don’t junk the whole thing. It’s okay to have an argument. It’s okay that the other one nudges you a little, bothers you a little. It’s part of being close to someone.

“But the joy you get from that same closeness—when you watch your children, when you wake up and smile at each other—that, as our tradition teaches us, is a blessing. People forget that.”

* * *

The rabbi tells another story.

“A man buried his wife. At the gravesite, he stood by the rabbi, tears falling down his face.

“I loved her,” he whispered. The rabbi nodded.

“I mean… I really loved her.” The man broke down.

“And… I almost told her once.”

The rabbi looked at him sadly and said, “Nothing haunts like the things we don’t say.”

Later that day, I asked the rabbi to forgive me for anything I might have ever said or done that hurt him. He smiled and said that while he couldn’t think of anything, he would “consider all such matters addressed.”

I joked, I’m glad we got that over with.

“You’re in the clear.” Timing is everything.

“That’s right. Which is why our sages tell us to repent exactly one day before we die.”

But how do you know it’s the day before you die? I asked.

He raised his eyebrows. “Exactly.”

* * *

From a sermon by the rabbi.

“A military chaplain told me the following story: A soldier’s little girl, whose father was being moved to a distant post, was sitting at the airport among her family’s meager belongings.

“The girl was sleepy. She leaned against the packs and duffel bags.

“A lady came by, stopped, and patted her on the head.

“‘Poor child,’ she said. ‘You haven’t got a home.’

“The child looked up in surprise.

“‘But we do have a home,’ she said. ‘We just don’t have a house to put it in.’” (They may not have houses, even just bunk houses, but let us hope that many of the Yolanda survivors do have homes.—RJF)

* * *

The classic golf rivalry between PMA Class 1956 and 1957 resumed last week at the Philippine Navy greens at the Jose Francisco Naval Station in Taguig City.

Led by the dynamic duo of Romy David and Boy Paiso, the ’56ers dominated their lowerclassmen by 11 points. High scorers for Class ’57 were Vic Buenaventura and Mike

Musico. They vowed to do better the next time around. As I mentioned earlier, this golf classic will be resolved with finality by the last man standing at the penultimate game of their lives. With everyone pushing 80 and above, the final boarding call may just be around the corner.