A living thing is a memory that acts. Eugene O’Neill said that, or something like that. You can be in my mutating memory if I can be in your mutating memory, Scott said that.

This manuscript is a collection of thirty-two stories about the kinds of things that rarely happen but, for some reason, repeatedly happen to me. My life’s been a medley of dependable surprises. I think Judd Apatow could have written my life with a strong dose of Larry David. Since I’m casting the writers’ room, I’ll add Gary Shteyngart, David Sedaris and Spalding Gray but with more lightning. 

Some people spend their lives doggedly pursuing money, and while the lucky few succeed, even the most financially successful end up with one story: Here’s how I got rich. Their life tapestries might fit on a handkerchief (albeit with gold embroidery). I chased experiences. I said yes to the unexpected, the impractical, the roads with warning signs. 

My life? It’s a wide-ranging, unedited IMAX feature (sometimes with subtitles), bursting with brilliant colors and unpredictable subplots. It’s loud, chaotic, weirdly beautiful, funny, terrifying, heartbreaking, and occasionally triumphant. All duct-taped together, and it’s up to me to decide what they mean. There is no master plan tying Bob Dylan to the baboons, the breakup, the chemo to the lightning bolt. 

Some things you don’t choose; they choose you.

Maybe you’ll discover who I am (or was) and why I am (or was) so willing to step off the edge. Or how often the edge steps away from me! Maybe you’ll feel better about your own life decisions. I’ve always considered myself an optimist. I’ve also been the optimist most likely to be struck by literal or metaphorical lightning.

Yet every now and then you come around a bend, and eternity sparkles before you. The moonlight comes alive, and the colors of the sunset turn electric.

And here’s my Life PSA. Never settle for a doctor, a diagnosis, a job, a relationship, or a definition of love that doesn’t feel like home. Sometimes, just sometimes, life gives you an Opposite Day, and you need the guts to say, “Yes.”

If I’m lucky enough to make it to ninety-nine, I hope to be just like my mom, Florence. When faced with adversity, such as being accidentally locked inside Macy’s after closing and no one realized she was still there, Florence didn’t panic. She took the escalator to the mattress department, crawled into a Sealy Posturepedic, and enjoyed a good night’s sleep.

—Scott Sanders