Of Beach and Books I

It was probably in 1975 or 1976 that I first reading On Caring. My memory is that I picked the book up after hearing about it in a class at Michigan State where I was at that time an undergraduate of unspecified and diffuse focus. Most likely the course in which I heard it mentioned was one in communication theory or maybe I learned of it via an odd reference made in a sociology class. The used paperback copy I picked up at the Student Book Store was very slim about ¼ of an inch thick. It consists of 30 short sections and 104 pages. The cover was sky blue.

While the first actual copy I bought was used it wasn’t highlighted with garish orange markers that were popular back then. On Caring apparently had been an assigned text in a psychology course. I grabbed it right at the end of spring term before I headed back to my summer life. I threw the little book in the top of the stuff I had crammed in my footlocker. In this one foot by one foot by three foot rectangle I carried the whole of my life back and forth with between New Jersey and Michigan. It was right on top so I could get easy access to it when I got home to the ocean. The sea and reading (and girls in bikinis) these were the most important things in my world. And I am dead serious about this the edge of the ocean will always not matter what be my home.

My summer life was spent working nights on the boardwalk, drinking excessively, smoking dope and playing cards when the shift ended until 2 or 3 a.m. and then crashing until about 9 a.m. I would them make my way from my bed to the beach (if it was a sunny day) spread out my towel. After slathering on suntan lotion (not sunscreen-I wanted a tan) I would pull my hat down and slip back into sleep. For just a little while longer I needed to be in lala land.

When I woke up I would roll over and lie on my belly and prop up on my elbows. I would then read for about 1 to 2 hours. That summer I got suntan grease on the pages of On Caring first thing. My memory is that I probably read it twice that year because I would keep going back over sections of the book. There was something calming and invigorating about the simple phrases in the book. It was kind of weird because the whole book was written in this odd third person voice. But little phrases would stick out. In the copy I had the printing seemed to bold on little sections of good words. Now I have a reprinted copy and there is nothing bolded, but those sections just seemed to jump out at me back then.

I usually reread this book about once every eighteen months. It is one of two books I do that with. The other is Siddhartha by Herman Hesse. What can I say; I am a child of those years that were the cusp of the sixties and seventies. Mayeroff had an incredible intellect. Dipping your toes in the water of this book will show you that clearly and distinctly. On Caring is written in a deceptively simple style but the concepts are not simple at all.

This will be the first in a series of posts about the beach and about On Caring. As I reread it and as I plumb my beach memories I am going to try and combine them into a series of short posts. It may not work. But hey you don’t know if you don’t try. I mean as Steve Forbert said “You cannot win if you do not play”.