Maxie: "Uh, women, women . . . All women are pear shaped!"
Joe (handing Maxie a quarter): "Very good, very good. And now, for a dollar, grand prize—an educated man?"
Maxie: "Damn. An educated man—umm—knows what he doesn't know."
Joe: "Right!"
Joe's position was that educated people know at least one subject well enough so that they realize (by comparison) when they don't know another. This was heavy for fifteen, but Max was game. "The idea is to know when you don't know what you're doing; then you can go ask someone or buy a good book and find out," Joe explained. Maxie nodded agreement, winnings crumpled firmly in one hand.
So, go find out what a story is, Joe told himself. He began reading books on fiction, but they weren't much help. For a change of pace, he looked up Arthur Soule on the Internet and discovered that a book he'd written on Roman taxation was still available. Joe ordered it, and when it arrived he found it interesting and clearly written. There was a small picture of Soule on the book jacket—patrician with a large jaw and thinning hair. Mo was a chip off the old block.
A few days before Kate's wedding, the phone rang as he was heading out the door.
"Hi, Joe."
"Mornin', Mo . . . That's a snappy opening," he said. "Maybe we should have a radio program."
"But it would have to be in the morning," she said. "When I work."