Laura, my oldest daughter, has always loved horses, so when someone donated a copy of the 1961 book called "Misty of Chincoteague" to the library, I figured she had probably read it as a child.
I took it to her, and she got tears in her eyes as she recalled the pleasure that little book gave her when she was small.
I figured I would go to Amazon and see what it would cost to buy, and then donate that amount to the library.
I got the shivers, though, when I recalled a conversation I had with another of my daughters about her quest to track down a book called "Little Mommy" that was her favorite children's book, period. (I still have the book stored in my memory and can recite it on cure even though it's been about 40 years since she sat in my lap and had me repeat it over and over and over again.) She said she found "Little Mommy" in ebay, but would not disclose the (what must have been very high) price.
This set of shivers was accompanied by another on Sunday when I read a column in the New York Times Book Review by Terry Eicher about her own search for a childhood favorite. The prices she was looking at were off the charts, as far as I'm concerned.
I found "Misty" in its 1961 version at Amazon for $13.
It was certainly worth that to see the look on Laura's face.
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