Steinbeck

I recently read John Steinbeck's “Travels With Charley,” a story he wrote about his journey across America in a Winnebago with his dog. It’s a good, short read and offers a portrait of Steinbeck in 1960, towards the end of his career. Anyways, I bring this up because of my trip to the butcher shop the other day.

In the book, Steinbeck sits down for dinner somewhere along the way and orders a big Porterhouse steak. As he was finishing it he noticed some other dude in the same restaurant eating a salad. Steinbeck then wrote a few great paragraphs about living your life the right way and enjoying every minute of it. His thought process was that a person should not be so worried about health, diet and exercise; that if you had to eat healthy all the time, you wouldn’t enjoy your life.

I took this to heart. The next day I went to buy something to grill and, remembering Steinbeck’s advice, I bought a large T-bone steak. After a great dinner I was stuffed and sat down on the couch to continue reading the book. Before I started I decided to read a little bit about Steinbeck the author on the back cover of the book.

Steinbeck wrote the book in 1960 at the age of 58; he died 6 years later at 66. Talk about a letdown. Here was a guy who wholeheartedly endorsed a lifestyle of enjoying yourself and eating large amounts of red meat. Someone I could pattern my life after. But, alas, it was not to be. Mr. Porterhouse died too young.

If given the chance to live 10 years longer in exchange for a few salads, would he make the trade? He might not admit it, but I think he’d do it. (As long as he could continue drinking like a fish he would)

And, yes, these are the slow news days for hockey.