Actually Living in Paradise

Sit in your leather chair and call your sandy jets Drink your chilled Hennessy and place your lavish bets Encompass yourself safely in your illusions Think about what you do, think about what you say Don’t believe that yours is truly the only way Sharpen yourself with righteous collusion Beware your voice, mark my words Of my choices, don’t make light Just because I want peace, Doesn’t mean I won’t fight I’ll play fair and make nice with all Soak up rancid sunshine But night will come and your world will end The second your world touches mine Take off your reins, open your brain Think with your soul if you can Hone your tolerance razor sharp If only history could be written by the oppressed Could our future withstand that test Of truth?

So no kidding there I was, in one of the major franchise bookstores a few weeks ago, trying to pick out a book to read for the homeward leg of a work trip. I perused multiple sections unsuccessfully, even stopping in front of the how-to section contemplating becoming a self-taught motorcycle mechanic. For a moment I pondered the purchase of several magazines in place of a book. But since I was traveling from the Eastern seaboard to the Pacific Northwest, I needed a plot. As I wandered toward the mall entrance of the store, I stopped in front of one of "those racks." You know the one; it is a circular tower no more than two feet wide and six feet tall which spins around its axis like a used car lot advertisement displaying all genres of paperbacks. Believe it or not, here is where I found my selection: "Ender's Game" by Orson Scott Card. Now, several of my friends have mentioned this book to me as a "must-read", which is why it sounded fa...