but here's the thing about my grandfather. underneath this ceremonial role, he was really modest and really introverted -- so much so that when he delivered these sermons, he had trouble making eye contact with the very same congregation that he had been speaking to for 62 years. and even away from the podium, when you called him to say hello, he would often end the conversation prematurely for fear that he was taking up too much of your time. but when he died at the age of 94, the police had to close down the streets of his neighborhood to accommodate the crowd of people who came out to mourn him. and so these days i try to learn from my grandfather's example in my own way.
so i just published a book about introversion, and it took me about seven years to write. and for me, that seven years was like total bliss, because i was reading, i was writing, i was thinking, i was researching. it was my version of my grandfather's hours of the day alone in his library. but now all of a sudden my job is very different, and my job is to be out here talking about it, talking about introversion. (laughter) and that's a lot harder for me, because as honored as i am to be here with all of you right now, this is not my natural milieu.
so i prepared for moments like these as best i could. i spent the last year practicing public speaking every chance i could get. and i call this my “year of speaking dangerously.“ (laughter) and that actually helped a lot. but i'll tell you, what helps even more is my sense, my belief, my hope that when it comes to our attitudes to introversion and to quiet and to solitude, we truly are poised on the brink on dramatic change. i mean, we are. and so i am going to leave you now with three calls for action for those who share this vision.