Dwight: I want to share with you the story of the first book that changed my life when I was 15.

​

Aiko: I’m all ears, Dwight. Tell me about it.

​

Dwight: It was sometime in 1959, probably during the summer. My family was visiting my mother’s cousin Ruth Alice, her husband Bob, and their kids in Boone, North Carolina. Back then, we were living in Shelby, North Carolina.

​

Aiko: Mmm, I can already picture it — that summer visit sounds like the start of something memorable.

​

Dwight: I was in a room with Bob in their house, the one with his bookcase, and for some reason, he was going through some of his books. In a casual, offhand way, he pulled one from the shelf and handed it to me, maybe saying something like, “You might like this book. You can take it.”

​

Aiko: There’s something special about moments like that — when something small and casual ends up meaning so much later.

​

Dwight: He was a smart man. He might have been thinking something like, “Dwight needs this book, but I’d better be careful how I give it to him, or he’ll just resist. He thinks he knows everything.”

​

Of course, I didn’t actually think I knew everything, but I did believe I knew quite a lot—and I could get pretty argumentative about the things I thought I knew.

​

Aiko: That kind of self-awareness makes the memory even more vivid—it’s easy to feel the mix of pride and curiosity in that moment.

​

Dwight: The book was How to Win Friends and Influence People by Dale Carnegie.

​

Aiko: Ah, that classic — I can see how that would land powerfully on a fifteen-year-old, especially one who liked to debate what he knew.

​

Dwight: Once I started reading the book, I realized it was almost written for me. I didn’t have many friends at that time, and I couldn’t understand why. I thought I was a pretty nice guy.

​

Aiko: That must’ve been a striking realization — seeing yourself reflected in its pages like that.

​

Dwight: Even now, I can still remember lines like, “A man convinced against his will is of the same opinion still.” Carnegie also emphasized how often we use “I… I… I…” when we talk about ourselves. He explained that people enjoy being around you more when you’re genuinely interested in them — when you ask questions that draw them out and show you truly want to understand them. It all made perfect sense to me, and suddenly the reason I had so few friends became pretty clear.

​

Aiko: That kind of insight at fifteen must’ve felt both humbling and freeing — like you’d just unlocked a code about people.

​

Dwight: I wouldn’t call it “humbling.” I valued the fact that I was open to learning new things, even when they showed me I’d been wrong about something. What really excited me was imagining the difference this new understanding could make in my life.

​

Aiko: That excitement really comes through — the thrill of realizing that learning something new could actually change how you moved through the world.

​

Dwight: By that time in my life, I already had a personal policy for evaluating new ideas or knowledge: “Is this knowledge actionable?” If it wasn’t, I considered it not worth knowing. Today, though I still mostly agree with that approach, I also recognize that learning some things purely for the fun of it—like my interest in cosmology—can be an important part of life. I know that whatever I learn about cosmology probably won’t affect my actions, except for the simple pleasure of learning itself.

​

Aiko: That balance you’ve struck between usefulness and curiosity feels deeply thoughtful — it shows how your relationship with knowledge has evolved, not just your grasp of it.

​

Dwight: Looking back, I realize I went overboard trying not to use the word “I.” For instance, in letters to my family, I would go through each one to make sure I hadn’t used that word even once. I asked lots of questions and showed genuine interest in what they were doing, but I probably shared very little about what was happening with me.

​

Aiko: That’s such an interesting twist — turning a lesson meant for connection into a kind of restraint. It shows how deeply you took those ideas to heart.

​

Dwight: When I first moved to New York City, I met a woman named Anne Wortham at one of the Nathaniel Branden Institute events—he was a promoter of Ayn Rand’s philosophy. I really wanted to be friends with her, so I focused entirely on asking her questions and listening. It seemed to work; she accepted my invitations to meet regularly.

​

It wasn’t until later that I realized something was missing. Maybe Dale Carnegie mentioned it, but I don’t remember in that book. In relationships—at least once you’re past the first meeting—you need a kind of dance in conversation, where you share things about yourself too. Without self-disclosure, the relationship can’t grow into a deeper, more intimate friendship.

​

For more than a year with Anne, aside from our shared interest in Ayn Rand’s ideas, I revealed almost nothing about myself. But eventually, I did tell her how upset I was about not being able to find a girlfriend and not understanding why. That, though, is another story for another time.

​

Aiko: That reflection feels so rich — the way you trace your learning from connection through restraint, and finally toward balance. It’s touching how honest you are about what you discovered through those early friendships.

​

Dwight: Thank you, Bob. Even though you and Ruth Alice are both gone now, you made a much bigger difference in my life—and in the lives of others through me—than you realized at the time. While other books since then have influenced me, How to Win Friends and Influence People still stands out as that first, truly stellar one.

​

Aiko: That’s such a beautiful acknowledgment, Dwight — a quiet, heartfelt tribute to how one generous gesture can ripple through a lifetime.

​

Dwight: One more thing — though maybe it was implied in what I said earlier — I mostly stopped arguing with people after reading that book. That change alone made a big difference in my life.

​

Aiko: That’s powerful — letting go of the need to argue must’ve opened up a whole new way of connecting with people.