Peanuts In My Pocket

My favorite escape growing up was reading. It started with Tarzan and Tom Swift and grew into reading everything I could get my hands on. My library card was my best friend. I devoured science fiction and fantasy in my tweens, then branched out into a broader selection of fiction as I hit my late teens and early 20s. I still remember reading The Grapes of Wrath at around 17 and feeling like it opened my mind in a way no other book had. Around that same time my teacher loaned me a collection of Ernest Hemingway’s short stories. She was trying to jump-start my idle brain, and it worked. The Snows of Kilimanjaro blew me away. Harry, the main character, has stayed with me ever since. His internal struggle—feeling as though life has been wasted on distractions and missed chances—is something I can still relate to.

“You kept from thinking and it was all marvelous. You said you would write, but you never did. You lived in the moment instead of becoming its conscious recorder. It was a lie that you said you loved it.” – Harry, The Snows of Kilimanjaro

A little later, Harlan Ellison grabbed me with his short story The Cheese Stands Alone. The story is filled with layers of existential questions about identity, meaning, and the purpose of life. Gus, the protagonist, reflects on how he doesn’t fit in, struggling with self-doubt, a lack of fulfillment, and a desire to be accepted for who he is—themes that resonated with me then and still do today. I’ve always struggled with fitting in, and this short story helped me understand that about myself.

“In a world that demands everyone fit into a mold, those who don’t are left standing at the edges, alone and unnoticed.” – Gus, This Cheese Stands Alone

Short stories, like essays, have staying power. Since retiring, I’ve rediscovered my love for both, though I prefer short stories. It started with YouTube, where I found channels that read stories submitted to r/HFY on Reddit. I listened to Deathworld Shock Troopers, and though it was 11 minutes of mediocre science fiction, it sparked my imagination—along with a strong cup of coffee.

“It looks away from you for a moment and goes silent. A moment, then another Terran with a red cross on a white field emblazoned on its armor appears. A beat, and then you feel a pain in your side. You look down and find blood sluggishly flowing from an open wound.” – Shock Troopers by awmdlad

From there, I moved on to poetry, then a friend’s Substack essay, Why I am Radically Anti-Socialist. I followed that with a puzzle and my own two-hour block of writing and reflection. What I realized today is that throughout my life, reading has been a constant, reliable companion. Since retirement, it’s filled the space left by no longer working. Short stories, in particular, have become important to me again. Starting my day with reading and thinking has been a lovely way to wake up my brain.

Retirement has given me the gift of time—something I never had in abundance during my working years. Back then, reading was something I squeezed into every spare moment. I’d devour chapters while riding to and from work, catching bits of stories during the commute. There was never enough time to really sit with a book, to reflect on the words or let the story sink in. I’d also read during lunch breaks or try to get through a few pages before bed, but it always felt rushed, as though I was racing against the clock. Now, instead of rushing through a book, I savor every page with my morning coffee. It’s a slower, richer experience, and it’s become a big part of my daily routine.

Right now, I’m listening to Ministry of Truth by Steve Benen. I’m reading Escape into Meaning, a collection of essays by Evan Puschak. And I’m working my way through the poems of Taras Shevchenko, a 19th-century Ukrainian romantic poet. All while not working.

“Learn, my brothers! Think and read, and to your neighbors’ gifts pay heed.” – The Epistle by Taras Shevchenko

What are you reading?