Norton Juster

Norton Juster died last week on Monday. The timing was strange because I had been having an email conversation with a new friend about Norton after telling a story about him in our Zoom book club. She had a connection to him, too, through her late husband.

I told her that Norton popped up in my life in random places, almost like a flag planted to let me know that I was on the right path. It was funny, really, because I almost always saw him when my life was at some sort of crossroads. But now that last time will be the last time. There will be no more magical coincidences leading to conversations or dinners together.

I am so lucky. Most people never get to meet their hero, but I got to see him multiple times. The last time, I brought the twins to meet him at a mutual friend’s house. I wrote a long journal entry about it, but never posted about that dinner. I don’t know why now.

I found this quote in it that feels particularly poignant this week. We were talking during dessert:

I asked him if it was difficult to be traveling right now for the 50th anniversary of the book, and he admitted that he wasn’t getting enough time to write. Time to write! The same problem I had been grappling with as I considered summer vacation and what I would do about projects that won’t be completed before the twins are out of school. And that was my moment; that tiny recharge I needed. The reminder that it never ends, that desire to have more time. That you’ll chase it your whole life on one hand, but knowing that, you can also let time go, be in the moment, realize that there will never be enough of it.

Rest easy, Mr. Juster. You taught me that anything is possible. And while I have thanked you for that on numerous occasions, like time, there is never a point of enough when it comes to gratitude.