located.” Kinnard looked Porter squarely in the eye. “
You
might want to explain it.”
“Tell me more,” said Porter, sipping from his scalding mug.
Kinnard sighed. “Seems that Ulman discovered a book.”
“I found one recently in my closet under a pile of clothes I didn’t know was there. What makes this book special?”
A red flush filled Kinnard’s face and the muscles in his jaw flexed. “I’m trying to save you from your mistakes, Porter, remember that! You may be a smart student, but there’s a big difference between intelligence and wisdom. Intelligence will get you through the university, but only wisdom can get you out with a doctorate! Up till now, you have not proven your brains!”
“Dr. Kinnard!” Bruno said, coming to the rescue out of nowhere. Of course the old man couldn’t let fights disrupt the cozy spirit of his place. “Can I get you something to drink?”
Kinnard let all the hot air rush out of him before looking up. He relaxed the muscles in his face as best as he could and said, without eyeing the old man for more than a second, “Coffee.”
Bruno turned with a smile. “One cup, com’n up!”
Porter relaxed, though he hadn’t realized the extent of his building tension.
Kinnard started again. “The book Ulman found appears, according to his analysis, to be a codex dating somewhere around 500 BC.”
“What’s it written on?” Porter said, intrigue in his tone.
“Paper,” Kinnard said without looking up from the fries on which he’d suddenly focused.
Porter waved a hand for him to have some. “A paper book?”
Kinnard shook his head at the food. “It’s not that uncommon.”
“I know. Two manuscripts made of bark paper were found at Mirador, but no one’s been able to separate the fused pages. I believe they dated to somewhere around AD 450. But I am not aware of any other paper codices recently discovered in the Ancient Americas.”
Kinnard nodded, gazing at the table as though ashamed of what he was saying. But that was an absurd idea, Porter thought. “Ulman’s codex isn’t glued together,” said Kinnard, putting a fry in his mouth. “The pages are in beautiful condition. But they hold something we never could have predicted.”
“What’s that?” Porter said. He swallowed the rest of his hot chocolate and put the cup on the end of the table for a refill, never taking his eyes off of Kinnard’s bald spot. “How’d Ulman find a book that wasn’t cemented together? Was it a scroll?”
Kinnard kept his eyes on the table, only looking up once in awhile. “
You
would come up with that, wouldn’t you.”
“Excuse me?”
After a deep breath, Kinnard spoke. “You’re a…a member of the LDS church, aren’t you?”
“I…am,” Porter said, his head bobbing with growing curiosity.
As if to divert any awkward feelings, Kinnard asked, “What does that stand for again?”
“Well, the full name is the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. It’s that last part which differentiates us from other churches…by name anyway.”
“I had an LDS friend growing up in Illinois. Learned it was wrong to call you ‘Mormons’.”
Porter smiled. “Well, it’s not bad. Most people don’t understand where the term ‘Mormon’ came from. You know that along with the Bible we read the Book of Mormon. Evidently, those who didn’t belong to the church gave us the title ‘Mormons’ based on our scriptures. It may have been an insult a long time ago. Some might even have negative feelings toward the use of the nick-name, but I don’t really care. It’s almost a household word now. Think about it. What do you see in your head when you hear the word ‘Mormon’?”
“White shirts and ties on bicycles.”
“Right,” Porter said, pointing a finger.
Bruno delivered the coffee with a smile and disappeared again. Neither of the customers seemed very intent on eating.
Porter went on. “Mormon missionaries. Clean cut, young, smiling, nice
You
might want to explain it.”
“Tell me more,” said Porter, sipping from his scalding mug.
Kinnard sighed. “Seems that Ulman discovered a book.”
“I found one recently in my closet under a pile of clothes I didn’t know was there. What makes this book special?”
A red flush filled Kinnard’s face and the muscles in his jaw flexed. “I’m trying to save you from your mistakes, Porter, remember that! You may be a smart student, but there’s a big difference between intelligence and wisdom. Intelligence will get you through the university, but only wisdom can get you out with a doctorate! Up till now, you have not proven your brains!”
“Dr. Kinnard!” Bruno said, coming to the rescue out of nowhere. Of course the old man couldn’t let fights disrupt the cozy spirit of his place. “Can I get you something to drink?”
Kinnard let all the hot air rush out of him before looking up. He relaxed the muscles in his face as best as he could and said, without eyeing the old man for more than a second, “Coffee.”
Bruno turned with a smile. “One cup, com’n up!”
Porter relaxed, though he hadn’t realized the extent of his building tension.
Kinnard started again. “The book Ulman found appears, according to his analysis, to be a codex dating somewhere around 500 BC.”
“What’s it written on?” Porter said, intrigue in his tone.
“Paper,” Kinnard said without looking up from the fries on which he’d suddenly focused.
Porter waved a hand for him to have some. “A paper book?”
Kinnard shook his head at the food. “It’s not that uncommon.”
“I know. Two manuscripts made of bark paper were found at Mirador, but no one’s been able to separate the fused pages. I believe they dated to somewhere around AD 450. But I am not aware of any other paper codices recently discovered in the Ancient Americas.”
Kinnard nodded, gazing at the table as though ashamed of what he was saying. But that was an absurd idea, Porter thought. “Ulman’s codex isn’t glued together,” said Kinnard, putting a fry in his mouth. “The pages are in beautiful condition. But they hold something we never could have predicted.”
“What’s that?” Porter said. He swallowed the rest of his hot chocolate and put the cup on the end of the table for a refill, never taking his eyes off of Kinnard’s bald spot. “How’d Ulman find a book that wasn’t cemented together? Was it a scroll?”
Kinnard kept his eyes on the table, only looking up once in awhile. “
You
would come up with that, wouldn’t you.”
“Excuse me?”
After a deep breath, Kinnard spoke. “You’re a…a member of the LDS church, aren’t you?”
“I…am,” Porter said, his head bobbing with growing curiosity.
As if to divert any awkward feelings, Kinnard asked, “What does that stand for again?”
“Well, the full name is the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. It’s that last part which differentiates us from other churches…by name anyway.”
“I had an LDS friend growing up in Illinois. Learned it was wrong to call you ‘Mormons’.”
Porter smiled. “Well, it’s not bad. Most people don’t understand where the term ‘Mormon’ came from. You know that along with the Bible we read the Book of Mormon. Evidently, those who didn’t belong to the church gave us the title ‘Mormons’ based on our scriptures. It may have been an insult a long time ago. Some might even have negative feelings toward the use of the nick-name, but I don’t really care. It’s almost a household word now. Think about it. What do you see in your head when you hear the word ‘Mormon’?”
“White shirts and ties on bicycles.”
“Right,” Porter said, pointing a finger.
Bruno delivered the coffee with a smile and disappeared again. Neither of the customers seemed very intent on eating.
Porter went on. “Mormon missionaries. Clean cut, young, smiling, nice
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