She said, "And if I remember correctly you and your mother had quite different tastes in books. I remember your mother used to like mysteries and fairy tales, isn't that so?"
Man, I can't believe she remembered that!
"And you're the little fellow who used to come in all the time and ask Miss Hill for books about the Civil War, aren't you?"
"Yes, ma'am."
She said, "I thought so!" She handed me the pencil and paper and the cities book, then said, "And when you're done with the book bring it back and I have something special for you!" She had a huge smile on her face.
I said, "Thank you, ma'am" but I didn't get too excited 'cause I know the kind of things librarians think are special.
I went over to a table and found Flint and Grand Rapids in the lines of the book. I looked where the two lines met and it said 120. Wow! That was going to be a good little walk.
Next I wrote down 120. Then divided it by 5, that came up to 24. That meant I'd have to walk for twenty four hours to reach Grand Rapids, one whole day and one whole night.
I figured it would be easiest to do the night part first so I decided to stick around the library until it got dark, then head for Grand Rapids. I wrote down all the names of all the cities I'd have to pass through to get there, Owosso, Ovid, St. John's, Ionia and Lowell, and put the paper in my pocket.
When I took the cities book back the librarian was still smiling. She said, "I'll bet you've been dying to know what your surprise is, haven't you?"
"I lied. "Yes, ma'am."
She reached under her desk and pulled out a thick, thick book called The Pictorial History of the War Between the States.
Wow! The book was gigantic! "Thank you very much, ma'am!" She said, "Enjoy, enjoy, enjoy!"
I took the book back to my table. I didn't want to tell her that I wasn't really interested in history, it was just that the best gory pictures in the world came from the Civil War. And this book was full of them. It really was a great book.
There's another thing that's strange about the library, it seems like time flies when you're in one. One second I was opening the first page of the book, hearing the cracking sound the pages make. smelling all the page powder, and reading what battle the picture on that page was from, and the next second the librarian was standing over me saying, "I am very impressed, you really devoured that book, didn't you? But it's time to close now. You may start up again first thing tomorrow!"
I couldn't believe it, it'd happened again! I'd spent the whole day reading. Her words snapped a spell that was on me, and my stomach started growling right away. I was going to be too late for the mission.
When she was walking me to the door the librarian stopped at her desk and said, "Now I know that knowledge is a food, but I couldn't help noticing you never went to eat. You must be very hungry."
She handed me a paper bag and gave me another smile. "Thank you, ma'am!"
She smiled. "See you tomorrow."
I said, "Yes, ma'am. Thank you for everything."
I went back under the Christmas tree and got my suitcase. By this time tomorrow I'd be looking at the face of the man who had to be my father. I started eating the cheese sandwich the librarian gave me.
And then I headed out for Grand Rapids. IT'S FUNNY HOW IDEAS ARE, in a lot of ways they're just like seeds. Both of them start real, real small and then... woop, zoop sloop... before you can say Jack Robinson they've gone and grown a lot bigger than you ever thought they could.
If you look at a great big maple tree it's hard to believe it started out as a little seed. I mean if you pick up one of those maple tree seeds and turn it over a couple of times in your hand there's no way your brain will buy that this little thing can grow up into something so big you have to bend your neck back just to see the top of it. Something so big that you can hang a swing on it, or build a tree house in it, or drive a car into it and kill yourself and any bad-lucked passengers that might be taking a ride with you.
Ideas are a lot like that, that's what the idea of Herman E. Calloway being my father started as, something so teeny that if I hadn't paid it no mind it would've blown away with the first good puff of wind. But now here it was so big and important and spread out.
The idea first got started when I was looking in my suitcase at one of the flyers showing Herman E. Calloway and his band. That was like the seed falling out of a tree and getting planted.
It started busting its head out of the dirt when me and the other boys at the Home were getting our nightly teasing from the biggest bully there, Billy Burns.
He'd said, "I don't even belong in this place. I been put here by mistake and it ain't going to be long before my momma comes and gets me out."
Bugs said, "Billy. how come it's taking your momma so long to find out where you're at? She must have a real bad memory. Seems like since she was the one what dropped you off here she'd've remembered where she left you by now."
Billy said, "Well, well, well, will you take a look at who piped up, Mr. Bugs. You know, I've seen lots of people who have roach-infected houses, but you're the first person I've seen who's got a roach-infected head. I wouldn't expect a little ignorant roach-head like you to know nothing about folks coming back here to get you out, you don't even have no idea who your momma and daddy is. Any fool you see walking down the street could be them."