In his graduation day robe, he looks like a cross between a biblical prophet and a Christmas elf He has sparkling blue green eyes, thinning silver hair that spills onto his forehead, big ears, a triangular nose, and tufts of graying eyebrows.Īlthough his teeth are crooked and his lower ones are slanted back-as if someone had once punched them in-when he smiles it’s as if you’d just told him the first joke on earth. He is a small man who takes small steps, as if a strong wind could, at any time, whisk him up into the clouds. When the ceremony is over, we throw our caps in the air, and we are officially graduated from college, the senior class of Brandeis University in the city of Waltham, Massachusetts.įor many of us, the curtain has just come down on childhood.Īfterward, I find Morrie Schwartz, my favorite professor, and introduce him to my parents. Hundreds of us sit together, side by side, in rows of wooden folding chairs on the main campus lawn. It is the late spring of 1979, a hot, sticky Saturday afternoon. The last class of my old professor’s life had only one student.
The last lecture was brief, only a few words.Ī funeral was held in lieu of graduation.Īlthough no final exam was given, you were expected to produce one long paper on what was learned. No books were required, yet many topics were covered, including love, work, community, family, aging, forgiveness, and, finally, death. Kissing him good-bye earned you extra credit. You were also required to perform physical tasks now and then, such as lifting the professor’s head to a comfortable spot on the pillow or placing his glasses on the bridge of his nose. You were expected to respond to questions, and you were expected to pose questions of your own.
No grades were given, but there were oral exams each week. The last class of my old professor’s life took place once a week in his house, by a window in the study where he could watch a small hibiscus plant shed its pink leaves. Mostly, my thanks to Morrie, for wanting to do this last thesis together. I would like to acknowledge the enormous help given to me in creating this book.įor their memories, their patience, and their guidance, I wish to thank Charlotte, Rob, and Jonathan Schwartz, Maurie Stein, Charlie Derber, Gordie Fellman, David Schwartz, Rabbi Al Axelrad, and the multitude of Morrie’s friends and colleagues.Īlso, special thanks to Bill Thomas, my editor, for handling this project with just the right touch.Īnd, as always, my appreciation to David Black, who often believes in me more than I do myself.
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