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Thursday, Dec. 29, 2011 02:24 pm

readingpoem #7

A recent letter from my sister Pat relates this tale about our oldest sister Joan as a kid.

joan read all the time — do you recall when we were parked in front of the post office I don’t remember quite how it began but I have a clear picture of our sister emerging from the p.o. door her eyes on her book feeling with her feet her way down the steps never taking her eyes away from the pages in front of her and then watching her walk toward our car still reading crossing the sidewalk coming to the curb and with one hand holding her book in front of her face groping with her other hand for the car door handle then yanking the door open the only problem was she had felt her way to the car closely parked behind us where the owner had been sitting in his front seat leaning his elbow on the window sill watching joan approach with her arm outstretched like a blind man — when she grabbed the handle and pulled, the amused man either pretended to fall out of his car or really did fall out only then did joan take her eyes off the book she was reading 
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