The Trailing Edge

                Previous chapter From the journal of Warren Hopper, as told later to Jasmine Judge I got an immediate reminder that Ben had never ridden in a car, when he sat in his seat, unbuckled, and I had to show him how to work the seat belt. He might as well have been taking a trip on the International Space Station -- he was so fascinated by every light, chime and gauge in my Nissan. It had been a long time since I’d had a kid riding with me, but I felt compelled to say the same thing to Ben: “Look at anything you like, ask me anything you like, but please don’t touch anything.” A friend of mine had learned this the hard way when his young son impulsively yanked on the center-console emergency brake lever when the car was going about 40. If not for the seat belts, the injuries would have amounted to much more than just a lot of painful bruises around the midsection. I saw the purple mark and never forgot it. Ben seemed to understand. But how curious he was. He squirmed

           Here's where our story begins. Previous chapter Ben apparently enjoyed a restful nap. He retired to his room after a relatively light lunch and stayed there for a couple of hours. I should have done the same. Instead, it was at my body clock’s personal ebb tide when Ben emerged, smiling, and said he was eager to resume our studies. He had questions about everything. As before, he was really intrigued by restaurants. On the front page of the advertising circular he’d looked at was an ad for a place called El Sombrero, a couple of towns over. Ben wanted to know more about Mexico and why so many people seemed to like food that originated there. I called Trevor in to assist, and he did a beautiful job of filling Ben in on Mexico’s relationship with Spain (which would have been current during the American Revolution) and key developments since then. “When we get back to history, which will be soon, we’ll talk about the Louisiana Purchase in 1803. A huge amount of w

                        Previous Chapter Now that Ben was aware of photography, we all felt freer introducing him to materials that featured images. We were no longer strictly limited to the printed word. I had another goal for Ben. Just as his notations had stymied me, I saw that the present-day version of the written word was difficult for him to slog through. We would have this gap unless he got some guidance. Having served as a Literacy Volunteer for many years, I got the job. The day after Gerry’s visit, we’d all slept in a bit, so I left breakfast preparations to the guys and went out in the morning. Though I was tempted to make a side trip to see my folks, I postponed it; I wanted to get started with Ben as soon as possible. My first stop (after Starbucks) was a local chain drugstore. I picked up several pairs of reading glasses, hoping at least one would suit Ben. Whatever he couldn’t use, I planned to casually leave around the house in case Warren or Trevor could us