How did
I meet him? I was about 13 years old and Mr. Valentine would have been 75,
impossibly old to me. He and his wife were our only neighbors. We
rented the old family home built in 1884 and they lived down the
single lane gravel road in a newer ranch home. He was related to the
old family, or perhaps his wife was, and that was why their home was
built on a subdivision of the old farm. I was always careful to skirt
their property line, as though it was something inviolate, even
though it was only separated from the farmland by a determined bit of
grassy edging.
So how did we meet? Because I recall timidly knocking on the door a few dozen times to visit. I remember the quiet formal front rooms that apparently no one used and the dark wood cabinets in the kitchen. I remember the pictures of family and being offered a glass of water by his wife.
But mostly I remember the books.
