A few weeks after my visit to Morrie, I flew to England to cover Wimbleton, the world's premier tennis competion. Outside the gate of the tennis courts was a newsstand, selling British tabloids. People just devoured those things. And usually I would be the same. But now everytime I read something mindless and silly, I find myself thinking of Morrie. I can see him, in my mind, counting his breaths, a treasering every last second. He would never waste his time on something like that, that had absolutely nothing to do with his own life. "The culture we have does not make people feel good about themselves. And you have to be strong enough to say if the culture doesn't work, don't buy it." I remembered Morrie telling me this when I had visited him. And Morrie really did live to his words. He created his own culture. I myself I have developed a culture of my own. Work.
I arrived back home in Detroit, I was shocked to learn that the unions at my newspaper had gone on strike. I was out of a job, a paycheck. Everything I had worked so hard for. The strike continued. One, two, three days passed. There were rumors it could last for months. I just had to hope this wasn't true. After about a week of this, I called Morrie. "You're coming to visit me," he told me. We decided on Tuesday.
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