The Noticer Returns: Sometimes You Find Perspective, and Sometimes Perspective Finds You
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Perspective is a powerful thing.
Andy Andrews has spent the past five years doing a double take at every white-haired old man he sees, hoping to have just one more conversation with the person to whom he owes his life.
Through a chance encounter at a local bookstore, Andy is reunited with the man who changed everything for him – Jones, also known as “The Noticer.”
As the story unfolds, Jones uses his unique talent of noticing little things that make a big difference. And these “little things” grant the people of Fairhope, Alabama, a life-changing gift - perspective. Along the way, families will be united, financial opportunities will be created, and readers will be left with powerfully simple solutions to the everyday problems we all face.
Through the lens of a parenting class at the Grand Hotel in Point Clear, Alabama, Jones guides a seemingly random group to ask specific questions inspired by his curious advice that “You can’t believe everything you think.” Those questions lead to answers for which people have been searching for centuries:
What starts as a story of one person's everyday reality unfolds into the extraordinary principles available to anyone looking to create the life for which they were intended.
through?” “Yes,” she said sweetly and patted my hand before giving it back to me. “Okay,” I said, now taking her hand in mine. “Walk.” We eased through the trees by the Spa Building, heading for the brick pathway that would take us along the water and around the point to the pier. As we matched steps, Polly said, “On.” I glanced at her. “What?” “On,” she said again. “On what?” “You said ‘walk.’ I said, ‘on.’” “Oh,” I responded with a nod. “I got you.” “Isn’t that what you told me Jones
which he can jump. Deep within us, however, no matter how much men protest, we are truly in awe. A quick glance at my wife during the handshaking part of the introduction and I knew that Polly liked Christy and Kelli instantly. Especially Christy. We took our seats with Christy in the middle chair. Polly was to her right and Kelli to her left. Bart and I sat on each end of the tiny row beside our respective wives. While Jones was arranging himself cross-legged on the pier deck, Bart caught my
laughed. Baker was overwhelmed, and Sealy knew it. “I’m Sealy Larson,” she said. “This is my husband, Baker. He likes your van, and he’ll catch up in a minute and probably talk about it. We have two teenage daughters, and Baker tends to shut down when we all talk at once.” She laughed again. “We’re here to meet a man who is helping us. Evidently there is a class—” “Jones?” Christy said. “That’s why I’m here too!” Soon they were hurrying from the parking lot to the pier, where Jones was
addresses. Jones stayed for hugs and handshakes. I hugged but didn’t question him about a “next time.” I knew better, and of course, the question had already been asked. I had heard it answered that evening, I had heard it answered before, and he didn’t need to tell me again. I could hear the old man’s voice in my head anytime I wanted, for his answer was safely tucked away inside my heart. “I’ll be around. I always am.” That’s what the man said. It felt good to know that it was true.
so I simply laughed as I alternately shook his hand and tried to hug him. Then I babbled like a four-year-old with his first glazed doughnut while the old man who had meant so much to me smiled and waited patiently for me to calm down. Finally, at a loss for words, I realized that I was still holding fast to Jones’s right arm, the one that held the little white bag. “You don’t have to mug me for it,” he said laughingly, gently prying my fingers from his bicep. “I have an extra one.” “One what?”