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I was given a gift when growing up in Flint. My parents raised me in a two story postwar house with one room upstairs that ran the width of the home. That room was my room and I shared it with a much younger brother.

The walls and the ceiling were constructed of knotty pine and a built-in bookcase stood at the head of the stairs. I spent sleepless nights leafing through the books stacked in the bookcase. Although the collection was small it was diverse.

I sometimes succumb to the temptation to view people dualistically. People are good or bad. Conservative or liberal. A jock or an academic.

We seem to need to divide people into separate camps. This impulse has been with us a long time. Manichaeism, a heresy from the Third Century, saw the world as a battle ground between good and evil.

It is said that the ability to hold opposite thoughts at the same time is a sign of intelligence. Perhaps that is why we simplify our world into us and them. It is just easier.

A couple of books from the bookshelf of my childhood were proof that dualism is not inevitable. The first was "The Old Breed: A History of the First Marine Division in World War II." "The Old Breed" covered the history of the First Marine Division from its activation in early 1941 through the end of World War II.

The book explained how the Marines landed on Guadalcanal and were left without naval support because of Japanese sea superiority. "The Old Breed" tells us that it was thought the Marines might suffer a disastrous defeat, but they stood their ground and beat back and defeated the seemingly invincible Japanese army. The success of the war effort was on the backs of those young Marines standing alone on that far-off South Pacific Island.

Marines suffered the highest World War II casualty rate in the South Pacific at the little known island of Pellilu in the Palua Islands. The Marines on Pellilu engaged and defeated the bunkered Japanese in a bloody and deadly battle.

The second book, "The Little Prince" by Antoine de Saint Exupery, is filled with drawings and stories of the Little Prince and the characters he encounters.

Antoine de Saint Exupery was a French aviator who crashed in the Sahara desert in the mid-30s and the "Little Prince" contains reflections that arose from that experience.

"The Little Prince" celebrates the natural creativity of children and their wisdom. The author relates that when he was about six he read a book that showed a boa constrictor swallowing an animal whole.

Intrigued by the boa he made his first drawing, "My Drawing Number One." To grown ups the drawing looks like a hat with a brim. De Saint Exupery explains that adults don't have the capacity to know they are looking at a drawing of a boa constrictor that swallowed an elephant.

For grown ups he made "My Drawing Number Two," the same shape as My Drawing Number One but transparent so grown ups can see the elephant inside.

Through a fox, one of the characters in "The Little Prince," we learn that, "It is only with the heart that one can see rightly: what is essential is invisible to the eye." The fox explains to the Little Prince that it is the effort the Little Prince has put into growing and caring for a rose that made his rose special.

I was awed with the courage and sense of duty of the Marines. They landed on blazing beaches and attacked under withering fire. I felt comforted by a writer who saw children as capable and wise.

Knowing that the "The Old Breed" and "The Little Prince" was valued enough to be read and saved by the same person opened the possibility that people can be both strong and sensitive, good and bad, right and wrong. Sometimes I just need to remember that lesson.

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EDITOR'S NOTE - Richard Clark, Escanaba, practices personal injury law throughout the Upper Peninsula.