Sometimes, I get it right.
My grandemother grew up extremely poor. They lived in a tar paper shack (no, really. Tar paper). In Montana, no less. Her dad poached elk in the winter to see them through it, and she grew up eating blood sausage and the like, because that elk was literally all they had.
My grandefather didn't really get how poor grandemother had been as a kid until he saw a picture of her house (again: tar paper shack). He always said things like, "We always had books growing up" and sort of assumed her life had been similar.
She told me a few days ago that the only book she had as a child was one she stole when she was about 10. "New Worlds to Conquer," she remembered, by Richard Halliburton. She said she'd steal it again, and clearly missed it, though it sounds like she has a better idea now that it was a little far-fetched. Still, not the point. She told me all about it, remembered so many details, and had clearly read it dozens of times.
And that, my friends, is what
Abebooks is for. I've got a copy coming to me that should arrive home around the same time I do. I'll read it, and send it along to her. I'm not very good at finding presents for people, but I'm proud of this one.