People have called me nice my whole life. I've never been sure I earned it — so I'm trying to find out, in public.
Over and over, on ordinary days when it would be easier not to. The doing is the only evidence there is. This whole thing is built on that one idea.
“Good people are the majority. I checked.”
Four questions. Fair warning: I'm not going to give you a score at the end. The book's whole point is that the score is the wrong question. But let's take a look together.
No number. That was never the point. Nice isn't what you did in this quiz — it's what you'll do tomorrow, when it'd be easier not to.
A memoir about trying to be good to the person in front of you — through the fights I didn't take, the drinking I walked away from, the faith I never found, and the people who got hold of me when I'd gone under.
No answers from on high. Just one man, at eye level, working it out.
People have called me nice for as long as I can remember, and I've never been quite sure I earned it. That doubt is more or less why I sat down, on a lot of quiet mornings, and wrote this book. I'm not a writer by trade — just someone who has spent a long time trying to be good to the person in front of him, and getting it wrong often enough to stay honest about it.
A fair amount of my life is in these pages. The drinking I finally walked away from more than twenty-five years ago, and the people who reached down and got hold of me when I'd gone under. The faith I never found in church, and the one I did find — in people, in community, in the plain idea that we're kinder to each other than the news would have you believe. I've traveled enough to be sure of that last part: good people, nearly everywhere I've been.
I'm still working it out. Still learning, still trying to earn the word. If any of that sounds familiar, I'm glad you're here.
— Buddy
If nice is something you do, then you do it daily. A fresh, small prompt every morning — never the same one twice.
Each chapter becomes a short, standalone read. Your blog, your talks, and how strangers find all of this.
A grudge is a strange thing to own. You're the only one still holding it.
People trust me because I'll never put them in a position where they have to.
I was afraid of the air, so I walked into a flying academy and signed up.
Nobody ever feels the position you kept them out of. The good stuff has no applause.
1,284 people are trying to be decent on ordinary days. I'll send a note when the book's out, and now and then when there's something worth saying.
I'm always glad to hear from readers. I'm also open to speaking and conversations about the ideas in the book — if you're putting something together, tell me about it.