What do Seth Godin, international bestselling author and entrepreneur extraordinaire, Sandy Hook Elementary School, and ten of Southern California’s most talented and beloved children’s authors and illustrators have in common? The answer is that they have all inspired this individual, for one brief moment in time, to take on a leadership role to move a tribe connected to an idea. What does that mean precisely, you may ask?

Like everyone else, I was stunned and horrified by the senseless shooting at Sandy Hook Elementary School last month. As I sat glued to the television set, trying to make sense out of something that is frankly beyond my powers of comprehension, I remember feeling an overwhelming despair and fear that, as moved and shocked as we all were by this tragedy, gun control laws would likely not change and mentally ill individuals would still not receive the resources they so desperately need.

I was waiting for our leaders to act – to do something – to change something – to lead us out of this dark hole so that we could rest assured that a tragedy like this would not occur again. It was then that I remembered Seth Godin’s words and realized that any one of us could be a leader, could enact change. I could not bear the thought that the loss of those beautiful and innocent lives would change nothing. And I could not wait for anyone else to do something. So I chose to act.

Godin assured me that all I needed to form a tribe was a shared interest and a way to communicate. It was clear there existed a shared interest. Everyone wanted to help, as evidenced by the international outpouring of donations rained on the Sandy Hook community immediately following the shooting. When those donations exceeded the capacity of their community to distribute, Sandy Hook representatives advised that the best way we could honor their memory was to make a difference in our own communities.

How then to move our tribe to make such a difference? Enter ten of the most talented and beloved children’s authors and illustrators in Southern California who, through their books, illustrations, and appearances inspire, delight, and teach on a daily basis. They could communicate our message, and so I enlisted their support and created a “Give a Book on Behalf of Sandy Hook” book drive and fundraising campaign to take place on Saturday, February 2, 2013, from 2:00-5:00pm at Yellow Book Road children’s bookstore in San Diego.

On this one afternoon, we ask all San Diegans to join our tribe to communicate to the Sandy Hook community, and to the world, that we can make a difference, that we send a message of compassion, hope, and change. On that one afternoon, join our tribe, come out and meet David Shannon, Robin Preiss Glasser, Pam Muñoz Ryan, Marla Frazee, Susie Ghahremani, Candace Ryan, Annika Nelson, Edith Hope Fine, Salina Yoon, and Kathleen Krull. Our goal is to sell 450 books, representing the student body at Sandy Hook Elementary School. The authors will autograph books, and then you, too, can include a personal message as well.

The books, as well as the proceeds from the sales thereof, will be donated to the San Diego Center for Children, a non-profit organization that for 125 years, has cared for San Diego’s must vulnerable children by providing expert therapeutic care and counseling for children and teens suffering from mental health challenges. The donated books will support their highly successful Intensive Reading Improvement Program, and the donated funds will support their treatment programs to equip these special children with tools to make them successful, self-confident, and contributing members of society.

I believe in our tribe!

Walking Home. It’s a simple phrase that generally conjures up a physical destination and, as such, it is likely we do not put much thought into any other context. Whether we are walking home from school; walking home from the park, walking home from work, walking home from a friend’s house, or walking home after a neighborly visit, we all understand the meaning conveyed by those two words. Yet recently, I felt compelled to ponder the significance beyond returning to the dwelling in which I sleep, eat, and live.

First, let me explain why this recently provoked my intrigue and, for those who know me, you won’t be surprised to know there was a book involved. Lynn Schooler, an award-winning author and photographer, penned his most recent book, Walking Home, after a difficult period in which he lost a close friend and felt his marriage nearing an end. To clear his head and put his life in perspective, he decided to undertake a lengthy “walk” through the Alaskan wilderness, during which time he struggled with multiple physical as well as emotional challenges.

Throughout his beautifully written memoir, Lynn shares not only his expertise in Alaskan culture, history, wildlife, and geography, which is extensive given his forty years as an internationally-renowned wilderness tour guide, but he also shares his innermost thoughts and fears of where his life is heading at this crucial crossroads. And the keen powers of observation he possesses allows him to eventually reconcile his place in the intricate web of life so that he really can begin Walking Home.

As I finished his book and started processing my vision of what Walking Home really represented to me, I was interested in (okay maybe slightly obsessed with) trying to capture that image in a photograph. Of course it was important to me that the book Walking Home be included in the photo since it was, after all, the impetus for this challenge. I recently spent a week in the Alaskan wilderness outside of Juneau with Lynn Schooler, where every day, I looked for an opportunity to capture Lynn’s spirit and my vision of “Walking Home” in the perfect photograph.

I didn’t know what such a photo would look like, only that I would know it when I saw it. About four days into the trip, we were hiking through a stunning rain forest in which we had to cross a bridge over a creek. We stopped to marvel at some chum salmon spawning at the end of their miraculous journey in the creek bed below. I confess I was initially traumatized by the sight of their struggling, deformed, end-of-life bodies, until we were distracted by nearby bear tracks in the mud, and it quickly became evident why these salmon were hell-bent on their aquatic version of Walking Home.

Once I understood that these perseverant creatures were merely playing their own small role in the intricate web of life that Lynn set out to understand as he was Walking Home, I felt free to leave them in peace to complete their journey. It was at that precise moment that I looked over the bridge ahead and saw it, a serpentine path leading into the forest. In a few minutes, we would head down that path and could speculate, but never know for certain, what was to follow until we ourselves started Walking Home.

I stopped there to capture the photo that matched the image in my head. This is what Walking Home means to me, but I am intrigued to know what it means to you, so I challenge you, dear reader to really put some thought into this and let me know what Walking Home means to you. Bonus points if you go out and read a copy of Walking Home by Lynn Schooler, create your own image in your head, and then include the book in a photographic representation and email it to me.

I chose to give away copies of Tim O’Brien’s “The Things They Carried,” a collection of inter-related short stories inspired by the author’s service in the Vietnam War, which had a monumental impact on me when I read it many years ago. The book, a finalist for the Pulitzer Prize and the National Book Award, catalogs a litany of “things” that O’Brien’s fellow soldiers carried with them on their missions, both tangible (grenades, guns) and intangible (guilt, fear, anger).

When deciding where I should donate my books, I was struck by the notion that the young men who served in the Vietnam War (women weren’t serving in combat at that time) shared something in common with the young men (and women) currently incarcerated in Juvenile Detention: they all carried “things” with them that profoundly affected their lives. My hope was that by reading about the sacrifices our brave soldiers make every day to protect our freedom, the Juvenile Detention detainees would perhaps realize they could take The Things They Carry and make better choices with their lives when they are released.

So now that I have delivered my books and fulfilled my duties as a World Book Night volunteer, what are The Things I Carry from this experience?

I carry the thrill of the pickup party hosted by my favorite children’s bookstore in San Diego, Yellow Book Road, where we were encouraged to share our book choices and giving destinations with other volunteers.

I carry the elation of knowing I have the power to affect the lives of up to 20 people who may have never had the opportunity to read an author like Tim O’Brien.

I carry the gratitude of all World Book Night organizers, from Carl Lennertz, Executive Director, to the publishers who printed and donated half a million books, to UPS who donated delivery services around the country, to the WBN committee who put such meticulous thought into choosing representative titles, to the bookstores and libraries that distributed the books locally, to the thousands of volunteers who participated, and everybody in between who played a role in this amazing program.

I carry the humility to know that there but for the grace of god, I could have been an under-represented reader had I not been fortunate enough to have been exposed to books at an early age.

I carry the passion that drives me every day in my personal and professional life to spread the joy of reading.

I carry the knowledge that books can and do change lives every day.

And last but not least, I carry the anticipation of participating in World Book Night USA 2013. If you missed the train this year, make sure to sign up now to receive updates for next year at: http://www.us.worldbooknight.org/about-world-book-night

I’d like to hear from you. What things did you carry from your experience with World Book Night?

We tell our own stories by writing memoirs and keeping journals and researching family genealogy. We keep scrapbooks and photo albums and Pinterest boards. We Tweet and post Facebook messages and send text messages that share a little piece of our story, minute-by-minute as it is occurring. We telephone and meet with our friends and family and colleagues to share an exciting or devastating or interesting event that happens in our life story.

We are even fascinated by the lives of people who we’ve never heard of before their stories were portrayed on television reality shows. Millions tune in every week to follow the life stories of the Kardashians, the Real Housewives, the Bachelors and Bachelorettes, and the Biggest Losers. While many may express disdain over the value of these shows, what the statistics show is that there clearly is fascination with these life stories.

I am a firm believer that every one of the approximately seven billion people on this planet has a life story to tell. Some will be tragic, some remarkable, some sensationalized. Some life stories are short, some long, some simple, some complex. While we will never know all these stories, that certainly does not diminish their worth. And what I do know is that with every life story I discover, I discern something of value and relevance to my own life. So if that is the case, then why wouldn’t I want to learn as many life stories as I can, in my continuing efforts to become a better person?

That is exactly why I decided to take on the “Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close” challenge. It’s not an official challenge, but one I am undertaking after being inspired by the film that gets my Oscar vote for the best film of 2012. Young Oskar is convinced that his father, who was killed in one of the Twin Towers during 9/11, left him a secret final message, so the boy sets off on a mission throughout New York City to unearth this connect to his father. While he never finds any message from his father, what he does discover through his visits with dozens of complete strangers is a bigger understanding of the world that allows him to put his own loss in perspective.

So how will I undertake my challenge? Quite honestly, I don’t have a game plan, but I know that if I keep myself open to opportunities, they will present themselves. Take Edna, a woman I met earlier this week while a friend and I were having dinner in a local restaurant. Edna was dining alone and I found myself wondering if she was lonely and would be grateful for an offer of friendship, or if she was reveling in sought-out solitude and would resent our intrusion. My friend and I discussed our options, and I was so proud of my shy friend for stepping outside her comfort zone and accepting the challenge.

Edna declined our offer but stopped by our table to thank us as she left, and we spent a few minutes chatting. And while we never learned Edna’s life story, I would bet that my friend and I will now be part of her life story, as she tells her friends about two strangers who invited her to dinner. While it was really my friend who stood up to the challenge, I felt as if I, too, had garnered the benefits of our offer. Whose life story will I learn next? I don’t have a clue, and that’s the exciting part!

On the second day of Thanksgiving week, I give thanks to W.G. Sebald, a brilliant German writer who tragically died before his time in an automobile accident, whose works have spoken to me in a way that have helped me better understand the complex nature of survivors in history and , thus, my own roots.

On the third day of Thanksgiving week, I give thanks to Anne Morrow Lindbergh, who reminds this writer daily that “I began these pages for myself, in order to think out my own particular pattern of living, my own individual balance of life, work and human relationships.”  A copy of Gift from the Sea is a permanent fixture on my nightstand and offers a constant reminder to keep my shell simple and open at all times.

On the fourth day of Thanksgiving week, I give thanks to Harper Lee, for teaching me that every life is a story, and those stories are dictated by our choices.  She reminds me daily to think thru the (sometimes dire) consequences of making the right, and wrong choices, in life.

On the fifth day of Thanksgiving week, I give thanks to Ayn Rand for teaching me the capability of the human mind and what we can all accomplish when we challenge our potential and utilize our own unique gifts.

On the sixth day of Thanksgiving week, I give thanks to John Steinbeck for reminding me that we must never forget our humanity.  I can think of no other writer to date whose poignant words touched me so deeply that I carry an ingrained image of them in my brain on a daily basis.

On Thanksgiving Day, I close out the week and give thanks to Yann Martel for offering the gift of hope, and the reminder that we must all co-exist, despite our struggles.  I hope for the day when we can, in fact, give thanks that we indeed have achieved a peaceful co-existence.