16.
As I ate she began the first of what we later called
"my lesson in living." She said that I must
always be intolerant of ignorance but understanding
of illiteracy.
That some people, unable to go to school, were more
educated and even more intelligent than college professors.
She encouraged me to listen carefully to what country
people called mother
wit. That in those homely sayings was couched
the collective wisdom of generations. 17.
When I finished the cookies she brushed off the table
and brought a thick, small book from the bookcase.
I had read A Tale of Two Cities and found it up to
my standards as a romantic novel. She opened the first
page and
I heard poetry for the first time in my life. 18."
It
was the best of times and the worst of times
... " Her
voice slid in and curved down through and over the
words. She was nearly singing. I wanted to
look at the pages. Were they the same that I had read?
Or were there notes, music, lined on the pages, as
in a hymn
book? Her sounds began cascading gently. I knew from
listening to a thousand preachers that she was nearing
the end of her reading, and I hadn't really heard,
heard to understand, a single word.
