Easter Egg Hunt Kids, Limited Edition Books, And a Moon Pie per Typo
We all have a gift; it’s just a matter of finding it. Years ago there was a boy in Harvey County who had a knack. He was dark-haired and had dark brown eyes; a mischievous child with a quick smile and big dimples. He was blessed with excellent hand-eye co-ordination and was good at golf and pool. That was not the boy’s gift though; his was the Easter Egg Hunt. He won three years in a row.
There was a problem, though. He was so good he found all the eggs right away. The other children went home empty-handed and in tears. The mothers were angry and demanded something be done. My friend ended up as the only kid I ever knew who was banished from the Harvey County City Park Annual Easter Egg Hunt.
It made no never mind though. After they banned him, he went the next year after the hunt was over and all the other children had gone back home. He found dozens of eggs the other kids didn’t find and had left behind. He’d save up the chocolate ones and take ’em to opening day at the Harvey County pool where he’d give them out to the girls in those new two piece bathing suits.
One year the boy went out after the Harvey County Annual Easter Egg Hunt and didn’t find a single egg left behind. He spotted a young blond girl with a full Easter egg basket at the end of the field. He tried to catch up with her but she disappeared into a thicket just beside the second hole of the golf course; the one with the big hill where we used to sled every winter.
Years went by. The boy broke his leg in a water skiing accident. Back then that’d land you in Harvey Memorial Hospital for a week. His nurse was a pretty young blond woman. One day it hit him. “Hey, you’re the Easter Egg girl.”
She smiled. “That’s me.”
“I was good, but you were even better. How’d you find those Easter eggs?”
“I don’t know. I can just see things other people can’t see. My mama is the same way.”
The boy was one of those types who wasn’t threatened by a girl who could out-do him. Two years later he married her. They lived happily ever after.
Oh, I guess you wonder what this has to do with limited edition collectable books. The now somewhat past middle-aged, dark-haired man with the streaks of gray and his lovely blond wife bought “The Mandolin Case.” They wrote to tell me how much they enjoyed it, but they wanted me to know they did find a few typos. I called my agent to tell him.
“Man, I can’t believe it,” he said. “The publisher had a first-rate MFA go through it. Tell those folks they have a gift.”
“I will, boss. Would you talk to the publisher about putting the ‘Easter Egg Kids’ on the payroll?”
“These guys were childhood Easter Egg hunt winners. I’m telling ya, I think kids who grew up as ace Easter Egg hunters can out copy-edit the copy editors.”
“Bibey, where do you come up with all these people?”
“I dunno, boss. Every story in Harvey County is a long one, I guess. I e-mailed you their corrections. There aren’t many, and they said it didn’t take away from the charm of the story one iota. They loved it.”
“Okay, I’ll forward the patch on to the publisher.”
And now you know why the first 1,237 copies of “The Mandolin Case” are a Limited Edition Collector’s item.
Someone else musta figured it out too, ’cause I saw it on the Internet with my own two non-Easter egg eyes. From some kind of speculator I guess: (paraphrased) “From our collection of hard-to-find used rare and out-of-print books, “The Mandolin Case,” by Tom Bibey. $68.69.” (They had it discounted to $61.82)
I won’t tell you who the speculator was, but my agent and publisher were not involved with this particular offer. (Neither was I.)
So, I want to reassure you “The Mandolin Case” is still on Amazon for 18.00. In fact, Amazon just discounted it to 16.20 to compete with the Barnes and Noble price.
I gotta admit the notion of being a “collectable” gave me a chuckle. I’ll have ’em at Red White and Bluegrass, and I assure you they will be eighteen bucks. I’ll even sign ’em and inscribe them as “Red White and Bluegrass Limited Edition” if you like.
At this point I think we’ve gotten shed of all the typographical errors. In fact, I am so confident that if you find one past the Limited Edition Version, I’ll send you a Moon Pie per typo via U.S snail mail or give you one in person at the festival. Boy Scout’s honor.
See ya soon.
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