42 percent of college graduates never read another book after college.

So go read a book. Right after you read this post, of course.

I started a new book last night. Well, sort of. The Jessica Darling Series is coming to a close on April 14, when Perfect Fifths is released in bookstores and other we-sell-books-here stores nationwide. And, since I have a tradition of rereading all of the books every time a sequel is published, it’s now time for me to again partake of the saga that is Jessica and Marcus. (By the way, Megan McCafferty, if you’re reading this, I think I’ll die if there is no Happily Ever After. Seriously.) Hopefully I will finish just as number five drops into my mailbox, courtesy of Amazon.com. My advice to you: go read these books. And then read others. So you won’t increase the statistic used as the title of my post.

In other thoughts, I’ve realized I spend too much time not talking. Shocked? Don’t be. Just keep reading.

Here’s my realization, in full disclosure: It’s an overwhelming feeling when you realize the amount of things you have to say to someone when you no longer have the opportunity.

  • Thank you for bagging my groceries, dear Loyal Employee of My Local Market. By the way, you have something in your teeth.
  • You, Man Standing in Front of My Seat on This Overcrowded Subway, have forgotten to zip up your pants.

The reality is, we notice the small goofs and have a little giggle before we double-check to be sure we, too, aren’t sharing in their ignorant social flaws. And then we depart, never to see them again. Never having the guts to turn–or return–to the total stranger and offer condolences and helpful adjustments to the embarrassment of their day.

But what about those People You See So Frequently You Feel Out-Of-Sorts When One Day You Don’t See Them?

  • I love you.
  • Congrats on the accomplishment.
  • I appreciate your hard work.
  • Thank you for being there for me.

All too often we take for granted the opportunities to say the things we really should say.

  • I’ll talk to him tomorrow night, so I’ll just tell him then how much I love him, I tell myself, as I hang up the phone and swallow the lump that holds a season ticket to a reserved seat in my throat for such occasions.
  • She works so hard for all her recitals. I’m so proud of her. I want to tell her this, but the receiving line for Greet The Musician And Tell Her How Amazing And Inspiring She Is is fifty thousand feet long and I am going to miss my coffee date with Mr. Wonderful if I don’t leave in the next two minutes.
  • Mr. Resourceful Boss makes the productivity of this office flow seamlessly. I’ll get around to sending him an appreciation card in the next few weeks, provided I get that far on my to-do list.
  • She remains just a phone call away. All the time. No matter what. My thanks go without saying. Doesn’t it?

Does it? Do those who need to hear the right thing really know what we more-often-than-not assume they know? Is our stalling really just because we tell ourselves that we keep forgetting to reach that part of the to-do list?

I don’t know.

But I did find some lovely Thank You cards on sale at Target.


3 thoughts on “42 percent of college graduates never read another book after college.

  1. I especially like this line: "It's an overwhelming feeling when you realize the amount of things you have to say to someone when you no longer have the opportunity."Well said!

  2. I've typed five different responses to this post …I guess that shows what I'm trying to say: I can never say what I mean to say to people. The good thoughts always get stuck in my head for fear that they won't be accepted by the listener.

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