Read to Death Read Online Free

us.
    â€œTook a little stroll to walk off those fruit thingies. Wouldn’t you know, I ran into an old fishing buddy and got to gabbing. Reminded me of some stories I’d like to tell the ladies on the drive home.” He unlocked the van and took the pastry box out of Bridgy’s hand. “Now that I got my exercise, I believe I have room for more fruit.” He shook the box. “Have any extras?”
    We left him to eat another tartlet or two and went off to find Ivy and her charges. The clubbies were remarkably chipper, filled with enthusiasm.
    Sonja positively bubbled. “I had no idea Edison’s lab was so . . . so scientific. I mean, they call it a botanic research laboratory, so I thought it would be, well, all about making flowers prettier. You know, stuff like that.”
    Angeline picked up the thought. “Ivy told us this place was designated by the American Chemical Society as a National Historic Chemical Landmark only a few years ago. It’s not only about flowers. It’s really systematic. Wait ’til you see.”
    And see we did. Even though I’d carefully read
The Florida Life of Thomas Edison,
I still didn’t get how Edison’s mind worked. Where did his wisdom come from? What prompted him to decide America needed to find a way to grow its own rubber for tires and such? How did he have the gumption to plow ahead and try to accomplish it? I guess for a man with more than a thousand patents, it all came naturally.
    I followed the presentation carefully, but even after Ivy explained Edison’s ideas and the process he followed, I couldn’t fathom how he picked the goldenrod as the most likely plant to produce rubber. The conversation got more and more animated. And I had never seen the Cool Read/Warm Climate Club members so energized.
    As soon as we’d taken leave of Ivy and were walking back to the van, Tammy Rushing said, “I’m so glad that we took this tour. It really brought the book to life. Don’t you think?”
    Everyone had a lot to say. Even the usually unsocial Augusta Maddox contributed, “Old as I am, I’m not old enough to have been alive when Mr. Edison lived hereabouts. Wish I had met him. Would have been an honor.”
    I think she was pleased to see much younger heads nod all around her.
    We were still chatting away as everyone climbed into the van. Oscar interrupted with a loud whistle followed by his “buckle up” speech, and he smiled broadly at the resounding clicks of latch plates locking into latches.
    He nodded. “Now we can get under way. I’ll have you ladies back on the island quicker than young Edison could telegraph the Gettysburg Address.”
    He pulled smoothly out of the parking lot and turned south on McGregor Boulevard.
    Angeline guffawed. “You weren’t on the tour. You didn’t read the book. How do you know that as a teenager Thomas Edison started out as a telegraph operator?”
    â€œEveryone in these parts acts like Thomas Edison is as much a product of Florida as big, ripe oranges. Well, I’ll tell you, he was rich and famous long before he ever set foot in Fort Myers. Bothers me no end that this town places such a claim on him.”
    I could see that this was a touchy subject for Oscar, but before I could think of a way to steer the conversation in another direction, Sonja and Angeline exchanged a glance, and Sonja asked, “What’s got you so riled? You should be honored that you live in a place where such a famous man, and his famous friends, for that matter, spent a lot of time and did some magical things.”
    â€œMissy, I told you, I’m a Jersey boy from the start, and that is where Edison did his finest work. Menlo Park, West Orange, Newark. Those are the places where the real magic happened.”
    Bridgy flashed me her round-eyed look. The look that said, “Fix this now before there’s a fight and our day is