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Lee Albert, he sat in the garden café, in Huancayo, Peru, at “Mia mama” and ate a bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich, washed it down with a cup of dark coffee, under a large umbrella, his Goddaughter, was there, Ximena, she had stopped to greet him as usual, after school. Above him the sky was turning a slight gray, it looked like rain, “What are you reading Godfather?” she asked.

“The Children of Hurin,” he said, adding, “By Tolkien, have you read it yet?”

“No,” she replied.

“Would you like to?” he asked.

“Oh yes, absolutely,” she responded.

How good it felt, he told himself, someone who wants to have a good read, like me, for here at last was life at its best, a light lunch under the sun, and a Goddaughter, who was sixteen-years old, pretty as a sparrow, and liking a good read.

He took another bite out of his BLT, told Mini the chef, “Boy this sandwich taste really good today,” perhaps because he found someone who didn’t think he was coco, about reading and writing, liking the comprare levitra online sicuro reading part as much as he. There were stars in the air.

“I’ll order you a copy for your birthday,” he said, “but of course not a real First Edition, like this one, which cost $140-dollars, but one that cost $40, a Second Edition.”

It didn’t seem to her to be here or there with a first or second edition, just getting one was grand.

And on her birthday, he brought her the book, “I hope you will enjoy this read,” he told her, and she gave him a warm smile, homespun, bit of real life in that smile and he felt comfortable.

In a like manner, Lee Albert, gave to another young female relative, by the name of Diane, whom was visiting him, with her father, the $140-dollar First Edition, copy of his book, “The Children of Hurin,” after hearing she’d really like a copy to read, and she showed the deepest of joys in receiving it, and he felt good, and that it was splendid that she also liked reading the book, or just reading in particular, like Ximena. He felt like they were three peas in a pod, they were, like to like.

And she was the same age as Ximena, and they were both good friends. He got to thinking, perhaps they would share notes on the book, and so he went out and bought a third copy, a Signed First Edition, $460-dollars for himself.

And meanwhile, he stretched out in his home and reread the book, enjoying the second reading even more so than the first time, wondering how his two young pretty nieces were doing with their copies, and maybe they all could share a nice conversation or exploration into the characters, theme or plot of the book.

He looked at the full-lengthy pictures in the book also, stared at them, examined them, he loved the art work.

Six-months had now passed in which he felt they had both, or he had expected both to have had read the book in its entirety, and wanted their opinions on it.

He met with Ximena one day, and he had asked if she enjoyed the story, and she had said, “No I didn’t read it fully it’s sitting in my room on a shelf, but I plan on getting to it, and reading the rest.”

“Oh,” he said, “How much did you read?”

“About twenty-pages,” she commented.

“Oh,” he said again, and rolled up his eyes, and felt kind of empty, asking himself, ‘Twenty-pages, is like climbing up the first step in a ladder and standing still. She likes the cover of the book more than the content perchance, or perhaps she just doesn’t enjoy reading for reading sake, which’s to know. Yet I had asked her, perhaps she was just being polite. What a miscalculation.’

Then he met up with Diane, figuring, she’d most likely have read it, but now he had his doubts, and he asked her point blank, “Did you enjoy the book?”

She put her head down, and said in a shy way: “No…ooo, sorry I didn’t read it yet… (actually she hadn’t even started reading it yet)” she looked so bad having to say she had not read it, he felt guilty for asking her in the first place. And again he rolled up his eyebrows, trying to remember when he was young, and what he had done when someone had given him a book to read, and all he could remember was, ‘Nobody ever offered him a book.’

3-12-2009. Dedicated to Ximena and Diane o/ds FF

Versión en Español

La Historia del Libro

Por Dr. Dennis L. Siluk

Lee Albert, estaba sentado debajo de una sombrilla grande, en el café jardín “La Mía Mamma” en Huancayo, Perú, y comía su sándwich de tocino, lechuga y tomate, pasándolo con una taza de café bien cargado; su ahijada Ximena estaba allí, ella se había detenido a saludarlo como usualmente lo hacía después de salir del colegio. Arriba de él el cielo se estaba volviendo ligeramente gris, parecía que iba a llover.

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