Seeing the book sparked a flashback. One thing led to another.

The book was “Alone: The Classic Polar Adventure.” I was suddenly pulled back to my high school years, when I had read a printing of the 1934 edition of “Alone.”

I am not sure why I chose the memoir written by Admiral Richard E. Byrd, but I remember liking it, thinking it was an important book.

Byrd made headlines as a pilot making the first flights over the North and South poles. But this book was about how he survived his second Antarctic expedition in 1934. The book blurb renewed my curiosity:

“His plan for this latest adventure was to spend six months alone near the bottom of the world, gathering weather data and indulging his desire ‘to taste peace and quiet long enough to know how good they really are.’ But early on, things went terribly wrong.”

My real interest was in how he faced being alone. Isolated. For months. So I did what I always do with a book I loved ... but can’t remember exactly why. I searched for quotes from the book. I found the reason this teenager kept reading the book.

Byrd was very alone except for the shadow of death. As noted in the blurb:

“Byrd began suffering inexplicable symptoms of mental and physical illness. By the time he discovered that carbon monoxide from a defective stovepipe was poisoning him, Byrd was already engaged in a monumental struggle to save his life and preserve his sanity.”

Byrd isolated himself for months through a long polar night in a 9-by-13-foot space, a hut he referred to as a “pinprick in infinity.” His reflections remain notable.

He wrote: “It was disheartening to be so much at the mercy of something from which there was no lasting escape. ... Then the darkness rushed in, and I was sensible of the ultimate meaning of loneliness.”

He added: “What I had not counted on was discovering how closely a man could come to dying and still not die, or want to die. … and it is surprising, approaching the final enlightenment, how little one really has to know or feel sure about. … half the confusion in the world comes from not knowing how little we need.”

His thoughts on dying: “The threat of sudden death can scare a man for only so long; then he dismisses it as he might a mealy-mouthed beggar. … When hope goes, uncertainty goes, too; and men don’t fear certainties.”

He felt attachment: “… There is an Intelligence there, and it is all pervading. ... Possibly the major purpose of that Intelligence is the achievement of universal harmony. Striving in the right direction for Peace (Harmony), therefore, as well as the achievement of it, is the result of accord with that Intelligence. It is desirable to effect that accord. The human race, then, is not alone in the universe. Though I am cut off from human beings, I am not alone.”

Some of his final thoughts:

“I did take away something that I had not fully possessed before: appreciation of the sheer beauty and miracle of being alive, and a humble set of values. … I live more simply now, and with more peace. … A man doesn’t begin to attain wisdom until he recognizes that he is no longer indispensable. …

“What people think about you is not supposed to matter much, so long as you yourself know where the truth lies; but I have found out … that on occasion it can matter a good deal. For once you enter the world of headlines you learn there is not one truth but two: the one which you know from the facts; and the one which the public, or at any rate a highly imaginative part of the public, acquires by osmosis.”

Byrd discovered truths about himself – the hard way. I’m glad he took the time to write them down. I now see his book as a challenge, an invitation … to look in the mirror.

• Lonny Cain, retired managing editor of The Times in Ottawa, also was a reporter for The Herald-News in Joliet in the 1970s. His PaperWork email is lonnyjcain@gmail.com. Or mail the NewsTribune, 426 Second St., La Salle IL 61301.