It's the Little Things . . .: An Appreciation of Life's Simple Pleasures

In 1996, Craig Wilson began writing a column for USA Today called “The Final Word.” In it, he extolled the virtues of the true pleasures in life—clotheslines, freshly cut firewood, sweet corn, and Adirondack chairs—and looked back on his childhood in the country with fondness and an infectious sense of humor. Wilson’s message struck a nerve, and now he receives hundreds of letters and e-mails each week from readers who share his sense of nostalgia and appreciate his warm, thoughtful observations on daily life.

It’s the Little Things... showcases the best of “The Final Word,” with the pieces arranged by season. In fall, for example, Wilson remembers his mom’s Thanksgiving gravy and his crush on his first-grade teacher; in winter, he holds forth on aluminum Christmas trees and the kiddie table; in spring, he writes about the joys of walking to work and puttering in the garage; and in summer, his thoughts turn to white bucks, front porches, and outdoor showers. The result is a delightful book to share with others and to relish throughout the year.

ig Wilson began writing a column for USA Today called “The Final Word.” In it, he extolled the virtues of the true pleasures in life—clotheslines, freshly cut firewood, sweet corn, and Adirondack chairs—and looked back on his childhood in the country with fondness and an infectious sense of humor. Wilson’s message struck a nerve, and now he receives hundreds of letters and e-mails each week from readers who share his sense of nostalgia and appreciate his warm, thoughtful observations on daily life.

It’s the Little Things... showcases the best of “The Final Word,” with the pieces arranged by season. In fall, for example, Wilson remembers his mom’s Thanksgiving gravy and his crush on his first-grade teacher; in winter, he holds forth on aluminum Christmas trees and the kiddie table; in spring, he writes about the joys of walking to work and puttering in the garage; and in summer, his thoughts turn to white bucks