Caleb
Caleb is the first few hours of the new year. He is an afternoon with no responsibilities, eye contact with no expectations, and a good book with three chapters left. He is a local breakfast, a great museum, and an out-of-the-way park with the best view of the city. He’s the childhood game you invented, the one with a golf ball and a basement window. And when it all went wrong, he was the voice in your head telling you to make it right.
Adam
In 2005, Adam bought a used Nissan. It was a good car, solid and reliable. But the thing about reliability is that it isn't interesting. And it certainly isn't meant for drifting. So he did some research. He watched some YouTube videos. He ordered some parts and had them shipped 6,000 miles from a Japanese junkyard to his parents' garage. More YouTube, more parts. He swapped in a turbocharged engine after the second shift at the fuse box factory. He added a manual transmission. He learned a lot. Eventually, he rolled it out of the garage. Proud, with only one thing left to learn: how exactly to drive a stick.
Garrett
Garrett is a morning stretch followed by morning coffee. Yesterday’s coffee was perfect, but today’s is even better. He is rock climbing in the fall (a metaphor and a fact). He is a dog named Muggins watching you watch The Nightmare Before Christmas. He is winter in a small town. He is summer in the wilderness. He is the last punch in your punchcard before you get a free sandwich. And he’s the free sandwich. It’s the best one yet.
Ingrid
Spiritual insight number one: notice synchronicity. The coincidences, the happy accidents, the points of connection. Follow them. You'll find yourself in due time at spiritual insight number five: inner connection. Call yourself a mystic or a creative. Feel lightness, feel love. Find insight number nine in the cycle of birth and death, of new friends and missed connections. After all of this, you may find yourself looking for spiritual insight number ten. And on your journey — somewhere, out there — you'll find Ingrid.
Shawn
Shawn is the scenic campsite at the end of a long hike at the end of a long drive. He is a welcoming smile when you feel out of place and inner confidence when you don’t. He is not hesitating. He is a chimp (strong, flexible) and a centaur (horse, man). He is a roller coaster with the right ratio of adventure to whimsy and a cold brew with the right ratio of coffee to nothing else. And, coffee in hand, he’s taking the long way home.
Brad
Brad was 15 and the world was suddenly rich with possibility. For the first time, he realized that a book could speak directly to him. Soon, every book on the shelf was reaching out and around the furniture, fighting for attention in the recesses of his young mind. He made his peace with it, learning to accept their knowledge with grace and hunger. He found balance. Until he started to wonder: what if I can speak back?
Teagan
Teagan is a beach chair in the mountains. She’s a stack of good books you haven’t read yet (but you definitely will. And besides, they brighten up the place). She’s the first hour of sunlight late in the fall, warmth breaking through the crisp morning wind as it carries leaves to their winter home. She’s a shapeshifter: spooky and silly, an aspiring wellness coach with a sweet tooth, everything in equal measure. She’s enjoyment when she can and endurance when she must. She’s also really nice.
Oscar
It’s 5 o’clock on a Wednesday. We all punch the clock (metaphorically) and head home (so to speak). Some of us are thinking about the weekend. Some are thinking about the big game. Oscar is thinking about physics. He’s thinking about how he might teach a child rotational friction and the gravity of black holes. He’d build an app, something as intuitive as it is complex — just like gravity. So he does. He’ll show us tomorrow.
Susan
Susan is a hot beverage on a cool morning; the breath you can see and the warmth you can feel. She’s a bookstore between a coffeeshop and a brewery, the just-right balance of energy, curiosity, and a little bit of everything else. She is a handmade sweater from a sheep named Julian. She is learning, doing, making, and repeating. She is the middle school spelling bee you missed when you were suspended and she’s your favorite teacher whispering, “sometimes bullies need to be slapped.”
Evan
Evan measured out his life in coffee spoons. He lost track years ago. His first cup of coffee comes immediately after he wakes up. Say, 6 AM. Black. Dark roast. The second and third cups come before work, too. By the time he walks into a 10 AM meeting, he's on cup number five. He can see electricity, converse with colors. He's running simulations in his head and answering questions before they are asked. His peak performance begs a couple of questions: 1. What happens if he puts down the coffee? 2. What happens if we join him?
Anne Dean
She turns the corner, new shoes hitting the sidewalk in perfect rhythm. She straightens her blazer and looks up. Chin high. A picture of poise. "There She Goes" plays quietly from her Discman, echoing her confident early-summer buoyancy. You open the front door, feeling a little unkempt. You reach for a handshake. She extends a teenaged hand holding a business card: Anne Dean. Founder and president. Babysitters club. You exhale, "thank god, come in."
Tim
You're three drinks in at the work holiday party. Tim's telling you a story about something he read this week. You're pretty sure he said it was in the New York Review of Books, but what he actually said was that he read it while he was in New York, reviewing books. Magazines, technically, in the airport bookstore. Southern Living. You'd been looking for a good pecan pie recipe anyway. And besides, it's nice to be in cultured company.
