Have you noticed you can buy the damnedest stuff at Starbuck's these days? Not content with merely selling coffee, they started selling coffee paraphenalia. Then they started selling CDs (and to their credit, really good ones). Now they're selling books and local branches are hosting book discussions. Not only can you get a nice cup of joe, you can educate yourself. God bless you, Starbucks. We're pleased you make education a priority (oh, and that non fat vente latte you just ordered--yeah, that'll be $5.50 please).

When I was in Albany, I hit the local branch for an eye opener. I'm not a frou frou coffee person. Just give me coffee, regular coffee, make it big and bold and don't put a god damn thing in it. As I was leaving, I noticed one of the displays for their new book club. They were promoting Mitch Albom's "For One More Day" and there were book club brochures for those interested in participating in post discussions. The brochure offered a synopsis of the book as well as 13 questions which were reminiscent of pop quizzes in school (that is, to prove you actually read the book).

Now, Mitch Albom is an interesting cat. He's on my TV every week on ESPN's "The Sports Reporters." I am obsessed with his overly large ears. Sensibly, he wears his hair long to cover the tops of them. However, he's a very astute commentator on sport and respected in the field. Curiously, he writes a lot of books that deal with death and the afterlife ("Tuesdays with Morrie" and "The Five People You Meet in Heaven" are most notable). I haven't read any of these books. I don't want to feel fearful or inspired or freaked by death. My philosophy of that event can be easily summed up in a line from the novel Peter Pan. Peter says, "To die would be an awfully big adventure." I'm sure it will be, when the time comes.

This new Albom novel is called "For One More Day." Reading the premise, it says, "What if you had one more day with someone you'd lost?" OK, the premise is already wretching but it bears an account. It made me think about those I've lost and what I could say to them if I had another hour or two, knowing they would be lost to me afterwards. Inevitably, the things I think of are issues that are a bi-product of guilt--my mother always said, "Guilt is a waste of time." In truth, my dad wouldn't care that we sold his house quickly and probably for less that he would have expected. My mother wouldn't really have cared that we donated some of her really hoochie dresses to Goodwill. What would I spend that reprieve telling them? I'd tell them how much I loved them. Which is exactly what I told them moments before they passed away. And that's what matters. I have no need for redos.

I think another vente is in order here.