Awards-

• Audie Award
  Audio Publishers Association

Excerpts-

• From the cover Introduction
   
  At some point when I was a child, my father started using a cane to keep himself balanced when he walked. I don’t remember exactly when it showed up in our home on the South Side of Chicago—I was maybe four or five years old at the time—but suddenly it was there, slim and sturdy and made of a smooth dark wood. The cane was an early concession to multiple sclerosis, the disease that had given my father a severe left-legged limp. Slowly and silently and probably long before he received a formal diagnosis, MS was undermining his body, eating away at his central nervous system and weakening his legs as he went about his everyday business: working at the city’s water filtration plant, running a household with my mom, trying to raise good kids.
   
  The cane helped my dad get himself up the stairs to our apartment or down a city block. In the evenings, he would set it against the arm of his recliner and seemingly forget about it as he watched sports on TV, or listened to jazz on the stereo, or pulled me onto his lap to ask about my day at school. I was fascinated by the cane’s curved handle, the black rubber tip at its end, the hollow clatter it made when it fell to the floor. Sometimes I’d try to use it, imitating my father’s motions as I hobbled around our living room, hoping to feel what it was like to walk in his shoes. But I was too small and the cane was too big, and so instead I would incorporate it as a stage prop in my games of pretending.
   
  As we say it in my family, that cane symbolized nothing. It was just a tool, the same way my mother’s spatula was a tool in the kitchen, or my grandfather’s hammer got used any time he came over to fix a broken shelf or curtain rod. It was utilitarian, protected, something to lean on when needed.
   
  What we didn’t really want to acknowledge was the fact that my father’s condition was gradually growing worse, his body quietly turning on itself. Dad knew it. Mom knew it. My older brother, Craig, and I were just kids at the time, but kids are no dummies, and so even as our father still played catch with us in the backyard and showed up at our piano recitals and Little League games, we knew it, too. We were starting to understand that Dad’s illness left us more vulnerable as a family, less protected. In an emergency, it’d be harder for him to leap into action and save us from a fire or an intruder. We were learning that life was not in our control.
   
  Every so often, too, the cane would fail our father. He would misjudge a step, or his foot would catch a lump in the rug, and suddenly he’d stumble and fall. And in that single freeze-frame instant, with his body in midair, we would catch sight of everything we were hoping not to see—his vulnerability, our helplessness, the uncertainty and harder times ahead.
   
  The sound of a full-grown man hitting the floor is thunderous—a thing you never forget. It shook our tiny apartment like an earthquake, sending us rushing to his aid.
   
  “Fraser, be careful!” my mom would say, as if her words could undo what had happened. Craig and I would leverage our young bodies to help our dad back to his feet, scrambling to retrieve his cane and eyeglasses from wherever they’d flown, as if our speed in getting him upright might erase the image of his fall. As if any one of us could fix anything. These moments left me feeling worried and afraid, realizing what we stood to lose and how easily it could happen.
   
  Usually, my father would just laugh the whole thing off, downplaying the fall, signaling that...

Reviews-

• Michelle Obama performs the follow-up to her bestselling memoir, BECOMING, giving listeners another peek at her life. This time, Obama aims to inspire listeners to become their best selves, giving practical advice and using illustrations from her own life. Her deeply personal stories show listeners how she has worked her way through obstacles. Listeners also learn more about Obama's life post-White House and hear about how her family weathered the pandemic. Her warm, inviting voice sounds like she's sitting down with listeners at the kitchen table, sharing words of encouragement. What's more, Obama creates a lovely sense of kindness and emotional intimacy that make listeners feel hopeful and ready to go out and face our chaotic world. K.D.W. Winner of AudioFile Earphones Award © AudioFile 2022, Portland, Maine
• 

  Starred review from March 1, 2023
  

  Obama's follow up to the best-selling Becoming makes it clear that she doesn't have all the answers, but she certainly has some suggestions. She posits that the light inside each person is unique and is to be used to navigate through good times and bad. How does one live life to its fullest and make peace when things are imperfect? How can relationships be more rewarding? Though she moves from world issues to personal ones, Obama doesn't try to categorize anything as large or small. The stories she shares about her mother make it clear where her down-to-earth attitude originates. As with Becoming, the author's narration is vital to the message that everyone sometimes feels like they are in over their head--doubting oneself is a natural part of being human. Obama's methods of dealing with fears and worry will help some more than others, but knowing she shares the journey is the best takeaway. VERDICT Obama's candid narration adds a level of intimacy between the book and the listener. This engaging performance should be available to all public library patrons.--Christa Van Herreweghe

  Copyright 2023 Library Journal, LLC Used with permission.

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