 Hello, hello again. Pinky and I have a book to read to you today. It's called Thank You Amu. And the reason I know that is because in the very first cover, it says, note to the reader. Amu, pronounced ah-mu, is the Igbo term for queen. An Igbo is an ethnic group in Nigeria of West Africa. So here's a pretty cool picture. Looks like some buildings and some people in the buildings. And it starts like this. On the corner of First Street and Long Street, on the very top floor, Amu was cooking a thick red stew and a big fat pot for a nice evening meal. She seasoned and stirred it and took a small taste. What a delicious stew, Amu said. To nice dinner will surely be the best I have ever had. With that, Amu put down her spoon and went to read a book before supper. A thick red stew simmered on the stove. A scrumptious scent wafted out the window and out the door down the hall toward the street and all around the block until, knock, someone was at the door. When Amu opened it, she saw a little boy. A little boy, Amu exclaimed, what brings you to my house? I was playing with my race car down the hall when I smelled the most delicious smell. The little boy replied, what is it? Red stew. Mmm, stew, he sighed. That sure sounds yummy. Amu thought for a moment. She was saving her stew for dinner, but she had made it, made quite a bit. It would not hurt to share. Would you like some? The little boy nodded. And so Amu spooned out some thick red stew for the big fat pot for her nice evening meal. Thank you, Amu, the little boy said, and went on his way. With that, Amu closed the door and went back to her book. As she read her thick red stew's scrumptious scent, wafted out the window and out the door down the hall toward the street and around the block until, knock, knock, someone was at the door. When Amu opened the door, this time she saw a police officer. Ms. Police Officer, Amu explained, what brings you to my home? I was on duty down the street when I smelled the most delicious smell. Ms. Police Officer replied, what is it? Thick red stew, she said, and her mouth watered. That sounds mighty tasty. Amu thought for a moment. There was still enough to shatter. Would you like some? The police officer nodded. Once again, Amu spooned out some thick red stew from the big fat pot for her nice evening meal. Thank you, Amu, the officer said, and went on her way. And so for the second time, Amu closed the door and went back to her book. Sure enough, as she read, her thick red stew, scrumptious scent, wafted out the window and out the door and down the hall toward the street and around the block until, knock, knock, knock again, someone was at Amu's door. This time when she opened it, she saw a hot dog vendor. Mr. Hot Dog Vendor, Amu exclaimed, what brings you to my home? I was selling my hot dogs down the block when I smelled the most delicious smell. Mr. Hot Dog Vendor replied, what is it? Thick red stew. Oh, stew! The vendor licked his lips. That sounds quite delectable. So Amu spooned out some thick red stew from her big, flat, fat pot for her nice evening meal. Thank you, Amu, the hot dog vendor said, and went on his way. Throughout the day, people from all across the neighborhood knocked on Amu's door. She fed a shop owner, a cab driver, a doctor, an actor, a lawyer, a dancer, a baker, an artist, a singer, an athlete, a bus driver, a construction worker, even the mayor stopped by. Soon the sky darkened, the street lights brightened, and it was finally time for dinner. But when Amu opened her big, fat, pot of thick red stew for her nice evening meal, it was empty. Amu sniffled. There goes the best dinner I ever had. Sorry in blue, she sat at the table with her empty pot until, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock. Who could it be? Amu wondered. When she opened her door, she saw the little boy, the police officer, the hot dog vendor, the shop owner, the cab driver, the doctor, the actor, the lawyer, the dancer, the baker, wife. Everyone she fed today was at her door. I'm sorry, everyone, Amu's side. My thick red stew is all gone. I have nothing left to share. The little boy tugged at Amu's sleeve. Don't worry, Amu. We're not here to ask. We are here to give. The police officer carried in a fresh salad. The mayor entered with a roast chicken. The baker brought a collection of sweet goodies. Even the little boy presented Amu with something special in a shiny red envelope. Everyone who had knocked on Amu's door that day squeezed inside her tiny apartment. And together they ate, danced, and celebrated. Amu's big fat pot of thick red stew was empty. But her heart was full of happiness and love. That was the best dinner she had ever had. Mmm, it reminds me of the potlucks we have here at First Unitarian Society. And I hope someday we get to have some thick red stew together. Right, Pinky?