“An old and respectable dervish, in one of his pious pilgrimages, passed the night at the house of a poor widow who inhabited the suburbs of Balsora. The eagerness with which the poor woman received him completely gained his affection. He wished to recompense her for her friendship, and, as he was about to leave, he said to her :
‘I see, my dear sister, that you are poor; it will be difficult for you to amass, by your labor, as much as will be needed for the education of your son Abdallah. If you will confide to me the boy, I will bring him up.’
The widow, who for some years had known the dervish for a holy man, consented to this proposal with joy, and delivered, her son, into his charge.”
Jeff sat that night in the lab of Big Pharma wondering;
“Why did my father wait so long to tell me about the upbringing of Abdallah? It would have made more sense if he started the bed time stories at the beginning.”
Jeff then remembered that his father was reading from a book.
Memories of those bed time stories that Jeff had heard as a boy were becoming more recurrent.
“Why are these stories now coming back to me? Why now? Why so many years later?” Jeff asked himself.
However; once more, he put it out of his mind and continued working on his research.
TOMORROW: 7. The Three Sons