From half a lifetime away, I saw an idealistic young man, hair down to his shoulders, standing on the street with a stack of magazines under his arm. He, too, was struggling to overcome his shyness as he tried to describe his new magazine to passersby. The afternoon light was fading, but he wasn’t ready to quit just yet. I imagined reaching across the years to shake his hand, to thank him for not letting shyness get the best of him, to encourage him to keep on.

By Sy SafranskyJune 2004

Subscribe & SaveSAVE 52%

Personal, political, provocative writing delivered to your doorstep every month—without a single ad.

Subscribe Today