Dr Stephen Post — God And Love On Route 80

Up next, I'm gonna be turning to a very interesting man in the United States. He is a doctor, Dr. Stephen Post, and he's the author of a fascinating book which has just been released. The book is called God and Love on Route 80, The Hidden Mystery of Human Connectedness. It is a brilliant book. I've had the opportunity, I am still busy reading it. What a book, and for those of you who go, I'm all spiritual, et cetera, et cetera. The mention of God or whatever, everybody goes, "Ah, wow, yeah, "it's gonna be one of those religious things." It's not, he's got a very, very interesting belief system, and he's got a very interesting way of what he sort of attributes to God, and I promise you, connectedness, it's brilliant. We'll talk to Stephen Post in just a bit. Right, all things being equal in technology, playing along like it should, I should have on the line with me Dr. Stephen Post. Good evening, Stephen, or good afternoon. In your part of the world. - Well, good afternoon. How's things in the wonderful world of Pretoria? - It's a wonderful, wonderful day here. We're sort of approaching spring very quickly, so yep, everything's definitely looking up for us. I may call you Stephen, we have discussed this, but you are a doctor, and in fact, you're a professor.

Am I correct? - Yeah, but how would you like to be referred to as? Do you like? - Yeah, I guess David. - David is good, not David, David it is, okay. - David, David. Now, you're no stranger to the world of being an author, Stephen. You've written a couple of books already. The one that a lot of people may know you for is Why Good Things Happen to Good People, How to Live a Longer, Happier, Healthier Life by the simple act of giving, and you've been featured in magazines, you've been on televisions, you've done so much. And when I got the book and I was reading the book, I am still busy with the book. It is absolutely brilliant. We're gonna get onto that. But let's start off right at the very, very beginning. Tell me a little bit about Stephen, and then let's get into the doctorate and what you do, because you have a very interesting take on spirituality, which I'd like to get into. But let's start off with who is Stephen. - Oh my goodness me, I am a professor at a medical school in New York. I teach compassionate care, attentive listening, and communication techniques to students and clinicians, and so that patients can benefit and also the clinicians themselves can feel more fulfilled.

Call it a form of compassionate love. And I've done this at the University of Chicago, at University of Michigan, 20 years in Cleveland, Ohio, which is really home at Case Med, and now I'm in New York at Stony Brook. This has always been my day job. I've really appreciated the ways in which compassionate care really makes a difference in clinical outcomes, especially for people with chronic conditions. So that's me, I'm my wife's husband of 37 years. We have a couple of kids who are not kids anymore, they're grown up, and we live here in New York. And I'm a pretty joyful guy, I like to look after people.

I do a lot of consultation with patients who are making difficult decisions about what to do and what not to do. So I direct a center that's called the Center for Medical Humanities, Compassionate Care, and Bioethics. And it's been a very, very nice environment, and I'm very grateful for it. - Now, is this something that you always wanted to do? Because the story and the book that we're going to be talking about, it's your latest book called God and Love on Route 80, The Hidden Mystery of Human Connectedness. Have you always, and I mean the story, it's a story of you. I mean, this is you that we're talking about in the story. So you've always had this spiritual leaning and yet this desire to help people? - Well, we know I grew up fairly isolated on a small street along the coast of Long Island, and when I would get a little down and out, my mom would always tell me, "Well, Stevie, why don't you go out and help someone?" And I did that, you know, in the book, I talk about Mr. and Mrs. Muller, and I would go out and mow lawns and just do chores, and I very early on in life recognized a kind of joy

and give Russ Glow a sort of aftermath of doing small things to help others. So it's certainly better than loneliness, it's certainly better than negative emotions like bitterness and hostility. So as a result, most of my life, I've tried to teach and even demonstrate through a lot of research, maybe more than 70 studies now, about how in so many different categories, helping others, getting the mind off the self and the problems of the self contributes to your own happiness and wellness and even longevity as a giver. - Which when you say that, you go, "Yeah, okay, right, go out and do something nice," but the story that you tell, and it is your story, it's essentially your coming of age story that you've now decided to share with the world. It is, I don't wanna give away too much. What is the best way to talk about this? 'Cause we need to talk about the Blue Angels. I think that's important. - Yeah, so David, I was actually born on Long Island, it's ironic that I'm back here now. And when I was about 13, I had the good fortune of getting off Long Island. I went up to an Episcopal, I guess you'd call it an Anglican-based prep school in Concord, New Hampshire called St. Paul's. And I loved it up there.

I loved the color of the leaves in the fall, it was nice. It was like being in a slightly pricey orphanage. It was great, we learned a lot, we studied hard. You know, we were part of our generation. And I loved sacred studies. I had a great Anglican minister by the name of Rod Wells, who taught great courses about modern theology and spirituality and he was also very much into Buddhism. So he knew Alan Watts, who was a famous Buddhist Episcopalian at the time out on the West Coast. I just had a lot of great influences early on in life. And that was the one thing I really took to as a youngster. I just really loved this. I would walk around the paths and beautiful Concord, New Hampshire in the woods and I'd be reading the Upanishads and I'd be reading various scriptures and Plotinus. And one friend of mine, Ned Perkins, whose grandfather Malcolm Perkins was the famous editor for F. Scott Fitzgerald at Scribner's. And Charlie Scribner by the way was in my class. He called me a peripatetic road duck, meaning that I sometimes would sort of get lost in these readings and he wondered if someone would have run me over. So that was me. Everybody played ice hockey up there. I didn't play a lot of ice hockey.

I kind of defined it as moments of wanton violence interrupted by lengthy meetings and a lot of whistle blowing.

- Probably one of the better explanations of ice hockey I've heard, so well done there.

So you've now, as I said, you're no stranger to writing and you've authored books before, you've authored a lot of papers. What brought about this book, "God and Love" on Route 80? What made you decide now was the time to write this book? - Well, you know, even though I've been teaching in medical schools for, oh my gosh, 35 years and I really love the healing arts. It's such a big part of my life. Reality is that I actually did my doctorate in psychology and world religions at the University of Chicago with people like Joseph Campbell and people like Mircea Eliade who wrote "Shamanism." I was very much driven in that direction and I even set aside all expenses. National Institutes of Health paid career as an immunologist scientist at UPenn because I wanted to go off and do something that was closer to my soul. So this has always been a part of me but the problem is, and I guess be honest about this, in big academic environments, science environments that are on the whole fairly materialistic in their metaphysics, in their view of the universe. I've always had to be a little bit circumspect. I've always done well in these environments but I haven't been naive about them either and so I've always written a bit on spirituality in the context of what I call the deeply forgetful people with Alzheimer's, spirituality and health and so forth.

The bottom line is that I wanted to write a book that would honestly and forthrightly present my experiences as really beginning as an adolescent and why I do the things I do. People are very interested in what I do. I get a lot of attention for that but I rarely have an opportunity to really explain why I do it and why I do it is because when I was 15, I had an incredible recurring dream at St. Paul's School and that's what set me on my course. - Well, when we come back, I wanna discuss the recurring dream and as I said earlier, I'd like us to discuss "The Blue Angel" as well. There's gonna be a whole lot more of Stephen Postry and we chat. I gotta tell you, brilliant book. We're gonna find out where it's available, where we can get it. I am thoroughly, thoroughly enjoying it. When I first saw "God and Love" on Route 80, I was like, okay, yeah, all right. The first thing that's banged to mind was a book I read many years ago called "God and a Harley". I thought it was gonna be similar to that. It's not, it's a brilliant book. When we come back chatting to Stephen, we'll find out a little bit more about the book and why he wrote it. Monday night, the show is called "What's Involved", my special guest on the line with me is author of "God and Love" on Route 80, the hidden mystery of human connectedness, Stephen Post.

And we were chatting about, before we went to the break and the music, Stephen, we're telling about the dream that you had when you were 15. So tell us a little bit about that. - Well, it was early in the morning. I wasn't quite asleep. I wasn't quite awake, but it was a very vivid experience. I would call it spiritual. And here's what happened. I saw this early morning scene.

It was misty, gray, silvery. I was on a road, I didn't know where, but it was headed somewhere to the unknown West. And eventually I arrived on some sort of a ledge.

And I saw a young blonde haired youth with fairly,

I would just say, dirty blonde hair. And he was leaning out on a ledge about to go. He was leaning out over the sea. And then suddenly the gray and the silver gave way.

And I saw blue and there was a blue angel. I wasn't a believer in angels at the time, but I saw a blue angel. And she said to me in a very calming and empathic voice,

if you save him, you too shall live. And then she faded back into the silver gray. And that was it. I had that dream six times over about a year and a half. I talked about it with Rod Wells, my sacred studies teacher and Anglican priest. And he was a graduate of Yale University Divinity School. So he even took me to Yale and I did a class, a masters of divinity class with a famous psychologist of religion, James Ditties, who was a Jungian. And about a dozen or so graduate students there. And it was great. They asked me about my dream and what it meant to me. And I talked with my colleagues, my peers. I mean, everybody around St. Paul's knew that I had had this dream. I wasn't quite sure what it meant or how to interpret them. So I would often ask them what they thought of it. But it was important to me and it kind of shaped me in certain directions. So even when I was applying to college, everybody from St. Paul's, they go to Ivy League schools on the East Coast of the United States. But I actually applied to a college in the Northwest Reed College, which is a liberal artsy college with a lot of good poets. And I told the students at Yale that they were all completely shocked. But that's the dream.

- Okay, and that dream led to you actually sitting out on a road trip. - Well, it was a pull, but there was a push too, because so Rod had gotten me a job for that summer in the Bronx in New York, where my family lived. And I was going to be doing some tutoring. And I loved tutoring. I tutored in New Hampshire, actually, with a lot of the French Canadian kids who were relatively underprivileged. And it was very meaningful to me. So I had this great job. I was very enthused about it. I was headed to Swarthmore College, which is a nice place. And then my mother and father told me that I couldn't work in the Bronx because it was too dangerous. And I didn't think it was too dangerous. And I asked them why, and I pushed back. And we had a pretty significant argument, pretty deep argument. And finally, my mother said, hey, look, you take this job, and I'm not gonna cover your tuition at Swarthmore. And she was really serious. And my dad chimed in. He'd been a lieutenant commander in the Navy in World War II. And this was a losing enterprise. So I said, all right, but what am I gonna do this summer? Now, my dad was the president of a department store. It's now defunct, but it was on Fifth Avenue.

It's called W and J Sloan's department store. It was a very nice furniture store. And he knew all the people around Greater New York who owned factories. They made lamps and tables and desks and all those kinds of things. So he said, I've got a job for you. You can work in Bill de Bono's lampshade factory. (laughing) Oh my God. And so I actually, for two weeks, that summer I worked in Bill de Bono's lampshade factory. Now, my dad had a secondhand gray Mercedes 190 that had seen better days. And I honestly think he bought it so that when he drove me up to St. Paul's, he could look pretty good, you know? (laughing) And that there's another family card. So my parents drove the family car, and I drove the secondhand Mercedes to Bill de Bono's lampshade factory, which was about an hour away from home. And I was between two very large, I say this respectfully, very, very large Italian women in a sweaty factory with no air conditioning, lots of people smoking. And I was cutting cardboard. I cut cardboard all day. And after two weeks of this, I was at my wit's end. So I drove out to West Hampton Beach, which is out on Eastern Long Island. I had a couple of friends there, including a nice gal friend.

And we were talking. And then one night, about 11 o'clock, I decided, you know, I really don't wanna go to college anyway. I'm not sure it's my time for college. And, you know, things aren't so great at home with this lampshade factory. So I'm gonna follow the dream. So there was a push, you know? - Yeah, yeah. - And that night, yeah. I drove the car through Manhattan over the George Washington Bridge, and when you get over the bridge looking west, you know, you can take 95 South down to Washington, but that wasn't in the dream because the dream pointed west. So I saw this sign and said, Route 80 West. And I followed that road, and I followed it till about five in the morning. I had maybe $50 in my pocket, my classical guitar. I had a book by Sid Artha, and then an Aldous Huxley book with me. So I'm thinking, you know, I can turn around. I'm in the middle of Pennsylvania, but I can still just do a U-turn over the midway, and I can go home and no one will ever know the difference, and my reputation will not be lost. But lo and behold, just as I was thinking of that, it was so uncanny. In those days, you know, your listeners, David, will note, you know, cars had things called generators, and when the generators broke down, all the electricity died.

So the lights went out, the engine went out. It was the end then. And so I just managed, when that happened, to get over on the right shoulder, and there I was. It was just, there was no light out yet. Maybe there was just a little bit of light dawn. And what was I gonna do? There were no telephone booths around for miles. All I could see were, you know, fields of wheat and corn. I was truly in the middle of nowhere. There were no cell phones back in that day. So I did the only thing that a kid could do. I took a piece of paper out of the glove compartment, and I wrote in pencil, "To the Pennsylvania State Police, "please return to Henry A.B. Post, 44, "Davidson Lane East, West Islip, New York, "516-666-95655," that was the phone number, from his son, who no longer works in the lampshade factory. (laughing) Oh, that was terrible. I mean, this is the confession, you know. But it's like, I got out of the, I was out by the side of the car, and I had my classical guitar, and I had a couple of books and a little pack full of things, and I just stuck my thumb out, and this big, huge, splashy truck came by, and a guy pulled over, and he flung open the door from above. He had country and western clothing on, and he said, "So where are you going, boy?" And I said, "West," and he said, "Okay, jump in," and that was Gary, and I had the most wonderful couple of days riding with Gary, who dropped me off in Chicago at Grant Park, and I spent a couple of days in Grant Park, playing via Lobos, and Granados, and classical guitar for money, which I was doing well with.

But I still wasn't out west, so there was a VW microbus full of hippie folks, and I said, "Where are you headed?" They said, "We're going to San Francisco." I said, "Well, I'll tag along if that's okay," and they let me have that ride. We got all the way out, actually, to Nebraska. There's Omaha, Nebraska, on Route 80, and then there's Lincoln, and Lincoln, one of these young ladies, said to me, "You really ought to call your mom," and I said, "Okay," so we pulled over, and collect, I called my mother, and she picked up the phone, and I said, "Hey, Mom, it's me, I'm in Nebraska," and she said, "Oh my God, you're alive." I can call up the Pinkertons. The Pinkertons were detectives. I guess they thought I'd been kidnapped or killed. - The detective agency, very well known are the Pinkertons, yes. - Very well known. So I said, "Mom, you called the Pinkertons? "Are you kidding me?" And we talked about it, she said, "Look, we should have let you work in the Bronx. "It would have been better than this." My dad, the Pennsylvania State Police called my dad, and he had the Mercedes towed from the middle of Pennsylvania out to Long Island, and it was in the shop getting repaired. I told my mom that it was probably a blessing that this happened when I was in the car, and I was able to get over, because if she and dad had been driving, they might have gotten killed.

She didn't quite take that well. And then I said, "I'm going out to San Francisco, "and can you give me George Lamont's address?" He was my cousin, he'd been in Vietnam, and he had a place out in the Mission District, which is the Hispanic section of San Francisco, and I went out there and I spent the summer with George. - It is a truly fantastic story, and we are glossing over a couple of bits of it, but when we come back, I want to talk to you, Stephen, about the spiritual significance of this journey, and I'd like to say here, and what I've been picking up in the book, one of my mentors always used to say to me that coincidence was God's way of remaining anonymous, and there's been, in this book, in the story, there's so much serendipity. When we come back, I'd like to have a chat to you about that. - Absolutely. - My guest on the line, fascinating, fascinating man, and I keep looking at this again, I wish I had some more time to have a chat with him. Stephen, so we were talking just before the break, and you were telling us a little bit about this journey that you went on, but you talk about, and I think it was somebody who mentioned it, is that in terms of the spiritual side of things, you kind of don't have, I suppose a lot of people would say it's a non-conventional belief, 'cause you believe in this mind, this mind where we all connected, the infinite mind.

- Yeah, that's really right, and that's why synchronicity and intuitions and premonitions are really such a big part of the book. So I got out to San Francisco, and I lived with my cousin George on Chenery Street. There was a Nichiren Shoshu Buddhist Temple on the corner, a Chenery in Market, and I joined, and we chanted Nam Yoho Rengekyo with a big group of people, and it was very mystical. And I had a mentor named Gus, he was a Japanese American and old man, and he would follow me around the Mission District, and I played classical guitar in Hispanic restaurants, and I was doing pretty well, but then, for better or for worse, I got a really bad number in the draft, and I didn't particularly want to go to Vietnam, so I called Reed College in Portland, Oregon, which I turned them down, but I said, look, I don't really want to go to college, but I need to go to college, because if I don't go to college, I'm going to wind up in Vietnam. And they admitted me right there, they readmitted me, and in the morning, it's about seven in the morning, I'm in front of the temple with Gus and George, I set off, and I took a Market Street bus down to the Golden Gate Park, and I walked across the park, it's about a 20-minute walk to the Golden Gate Bridge, and I walked over the bridge, 'cause that was the way to go north to Oregon, Reed's in Portland, Oregon, and it's misty, it's silvery, it's gray, I couldn't see more than about four, maybe five feet in front of me, and I'm on the walkway on the left, and then there's a kind of a waist-high railing, and then there's a ledge on the other side of the railing.

So I get to the middle of the bridge, and I hear a kind of ruffling sound, and I look to my left, and lo and behold, I see a blonde-haired youth with stringy, blonde hair, he's leaning out off the ledge over the sea, and I looked at him, I'm completely astonished, and I said in a fairly quiet and empathic voice, I said, you're not planning to jump, are you? And he responded, again, I'm just paraphrasing, yes, and what's it to you? And then he even started quoting some Macbeth about empty nothingness, and I'd heard that back in St. Paul's when we did Macbeth in Memorial Hall, and I said, it sounds a lot more realistic when you're out there on a ledge ready to jump. So I said, look, don't jump, and he said, why? And I said, because, you know, I think, I think that I have been guided all the way out here, I think I had a dream, a recurring dream in school, I think I was working in the lampshade factory, I took the car, the car broke down at the perfect moment in the middle of Pennsylvania, so I just had to keep on going, and I said, you know, I was brought here into the West, I didn't know where, but somehow or another, I think I'm supposed to be here on the middle of this bridge, talking to you.

Again, I'm just paraphrasing. And he was very defiant, and he said, there's nothing you can do to change my mind, and I said, well, wait a minute, you know, maybe I have something. So I had in my backpack a Gahone Zone, and some of your listeners will know about this, it's a Japanese scroll, and it cost me about 40 or 50 bucks at the temple, and it's supposed to give you luck the rest of your life, the Buddhists like to do that kind of thing, lucky things matter for them, and I guess they matter for us all, but it's a beautiful scroll, and it has Japanese symbolism about meaning and depth, and not being so busy as to fail to notice the action of the divine, so there's this heart with a line slashed through it, which is the Japanese symbol for busy, and I said, look, I'm gonna give this Gahone Zone to you, Harry, I found out his name is Harry, if you come across the railing, and let me really explain it to you in depth. So he came across, and I explained all about the Gahone Zone, and I said, now I'm gonna give this to you, but there's another thing, you have to walk down the bridge, he had calmed down a lot by now, I don't know what was going on with him mentally, but he had calmed down a lot, somehow I brought him into his inner being, and I said, you gotta walk down, walk across Golden Gate Park, get the Marcus Street bus, and go to my cousin George's on Fort Chenery Street, and then tell George, give him this note, I wrote a note to George, this is Harry, please let him sleep on the floor where I was sleeping, and take him down to the temple to see Gus, which George did, and Harry apparently did pretty well, I didn't actually see him, 'cause I came back from Oregon at Thanksgiving, and by that time Harry had left George's, and he'd gone back to North Carolina where he was from.

But to me, as I walked down the bridge, I was going North, Harry was going South, I'm going North, and I'm thinking to myself, maybe there was really something to that recurring dream, it just is so uncanny, I couldn't make this up, and there's no way to explain it with probability and statistics, 'cause it's so improbable, I just think that this is a sign that there's a loving, higher being in this universe, called the supreme being, the one mind, whatever you wanna call it, Emerson would call it the over soul, but something that we're all a part of, and our minds aren't just biological, they're not just derived from tissues and cells and a brain, but there's a non-local element to our minds, I mean, Jung would call it the collective unconscious, the Hindus would call the supreme mind, but somehow we're all participating in that, and that's why I could have that dream, even it was two years before I actually was out on the Golden Gate Bridge, so it was beyond time, it was beyond place, it was 3,000 miles away, it was on the East Coast, this was on the West Coast, but somehow when we're in that mind, time and place disappear, and amazing things can happen, so this to me was just an incredible experience, and I was really, from that point on I think, I was convinced that there really is a cherishing, loving energy in this universe, and it brings us together for good purposes.

- And I think this is the important part though, because I think this book has come at a particular time, and it's obviously your story as well, but there is, and I don't know if you've noticed it, I've certainly noticed it here in our country, there is this change, and I think there's a groundswell and it's gaining momentum, where people are kinder, people are starting to acknowledge these connections, and to acknowledge that we all are connected in one way or another, have you found these sort of things to be true, this connectedness, it's all of these strange little coincidences that if you start to look for them, you're surrounded by them. - Yeah, absolutely, so Larry Dossi wrote the forward to the book, he's a physician, he was a very famous physician, and he actually wrote a book about five years ago called One Mind, and it's a really beautiful book. There are physicists who believe that there's kind of unifying one mind, the philosophers like Hegel, and Plotinus, and Schopenhauer, and I could rattle off names. I mean, this is actually a very solid position in both Eastern and Western thought, and the thing is, we're into such a materialistic era right now, that if you even dare talk about something this spiritual, that there's this non-local mind, that mind comes before matter, and that we can be connected in these things.

Some people think it's really, really crazy, but not so much anymore, and I find, surprisingly, that people are really engaged, and I wrote the book, really, David, because I wanted people to be free. You know, when I talk about these episodes of synchronicity in the book, it's astonishing. Suddenly, whoever's listening, they'll say, "Wow." Are you still there? - He's listening away. - Are you still there? - Yes, we are. - Okay, so when I tell people about these episodes of synchronicity, they actually feel liberated, because they've all had them. They've all had these incredible moments of intuition, these incredible premonitions that occurred, and they've never felt free enough to talk about them, but now they can talk about them, and I think it's a beautiful thing, because it's a part of their lives, it's a part of their journeys. - It is indeed, and we're unfortunately running out of time. I could talk about this stuff forever, but, Steven, the book is out now, it is available. Where are we gonna be able to get it in South Africa, in our bookstores, or is online going to be our best bet? - I guess online is probably the best bet. It's called God and Love on Route 80, the hidden mystery of human connectedness, and you can get it electronically, or you can get a paper back, and I guess it would be on Amazon, or whatever there is in South Africa, but it's a book I always wanted to write and it's a very open book, and it tells some incredible accounts of synchronicity that have completely shaped my life, and kept me off Wall Street and made me the person I am, and ultimately, I've had a very nice life, but this thread of a Blue Angel dream has always been there, whether it's in Chicago, or even filling the United Nations

with young people who wrote essays about pushing back against peer pressure to hate other people, just 'cause they didn't share their beliefs, and that's after my institute's website was taken down by Team DZ ISIS in 2014. So, yeah, that's in the book, and the images, and the emails from my board of directors, and this was something I'd started with Sir John Templeton, who was my mentor in a lot of ways. So, everything comes together with this dream, and I've tried in my own way over the course of my life to follow the dream. Sometimes it's very powerful in its presence, and sometimes it's very faint, but I try to keep it in mind, and I loved Shigal, the painter, because Shigal, when he was 17, his dad wanted him to work in a pickle factory in a city in Russia, and he didn't wanna do that, so he ran away to St. Petersburg, and he was in an alley, he had no money, he wasn't even painting it, he was sketching, and he's lying on a mattress within a couple of old bums. He wrote about this, and suddenly the alley fills with blue, and he hears fluttering, and he sees this angel, and then it ascends and leaves blue behind. The rest of his life, he painted all his Shigal stained glass windows at the U on it, it's all blue angels, and when he died, he was in a studio outside of Paris, and he was painting a blue angel.

- Well, Stephen, all I can say is the book is an absolute treat. I am, you know, there's books that I read, and I have to devour them as fast as I can, and then there are some that I want to savor, and I really don't want it to end. Yours is one of them, it is a phenomenal book, I am thoroughly enjoying it, I'm savoring each and every, but I have to ration myself to like a half an hour reading at a time, 'cause otherwise it's gonna be long time finished. But it's a brilliant book, it's available electronically, we can get it on Amazon. It's called God and Love on Route 80, The Hidden Mystery of Human Connectedness by Stephen G. Post. Stephen, thank you so much for the book. Thank you for having the kind of passion and freedom to do what you do, and I'd just like to wish you all the best, and again, thank you for taking time out to chat with us. - Thank you, David, it's such a pleasure, and my regards to George L. is a physicist I know from South Africa who's always been a great friend in the conversation between science and theology. - Wonderful stuff, go well, enjoy the rest of the afternoon, and well, we'll be looking forward to another book from you in the not too distant future.

- Okay, maybe, thank you, David. - Thank you, bye-bye, there we go. - What a man to chat to, that is Stephen G. Post, and it's a brilliant book, okay, it's one of those books, do yourself a favor, go out, get it, read it.