How to Read an Unwritten Language by Philip Graham

Author:Philip Graham
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: How to Read an Unwritten Language
ISBN: 0684803739
Publisher: Dzanc Books
Published: 1995-12-26T16:00:00+00:00

Chiming Glasses

A postcard’s gaudy colors showed through the slits of our apartment mailbox, and though I should have been rushing off to an economics lecture, I stopped and pulled out a view of a cityscape with an impressive backdrop of mountains. I turned it over to read my first news of Laurie since she’d quit school months ago: “I’m absolutely flourishing with a bit part here and there, and waiting—on tables, and for my big break.”

No return address. I sighed and slipped the card into my backpack. My sister had done the opposite of what I’d advised, yet I couldn’t help envying her brave escape, even if her refuge was a bit part or some measly two line walk-on. All the hard work I poured into my lackluster slate of business courses gave me nothing in return, except the sort of grades my father would be proud of, if only he’d notice.

When I arrived in class the professor was already striding back and forth across the lecture hall’s stage, flaunting his usual agenda. I flipped open my notebook and jotted down his opinions, knowing they were more important than his charts and fact sheets. Then he paused to pass out a few copies of what he labeled “a sterling example of overregulation”: a government booklet on consumer safety that listed thousands of accidents involving ordinary household objects.

His narrow, well tailored frame entirely still under the glow of fluorescent lights, the professor asked, “What good could such a pamphlet possibly do for the economy?” He paused as if waiting for a reply, but no one spoke up. We all knew this question was rhetorical.

“None at all,” he resumed with a satisfied chuckle. “Unless one considers the increase on insurance policy premiums across the country a salubrious effect.”

One of the booklets finally came my way, and I paged through the suspect report idly at first, then with more care. I read of eight thousand accidents a year caused by tie racks, and that dishwashers, toothpicks, and household scissors were responsible for the same number. Improbably enough, twice as many accidents were caused by vacuum cleaners. Even more by waste baskets. The list went on and on. Yet these mishaps weren’t minor: the safety commission came by its figures from the records of hospital emergency wards across the country.

Frustrated that the booklet included no details of these mysterious accidents, I found myself imagining a light bulb shattering into slivers while being unscrewed; an electric blanket shorting out in the middle of someone’s peaceful dream; a teakettle melting onto the stove after its whistle failed. Whether insurance premiums rose or not, what could be wrong with protecting people from such domestic betrayals?

“Hey buddy,” the fellow closest to me said, “you gonna keep that? Pass it over.”

“It’s yours,” I muttered, tossing it but sorry to see it go. I returned to my notebook, trying to follow the lecture but unable to shake the thought of a toaster shorting into flames; or one of Kate’s drawings loosening from the wall, then drifting to the floor and the path of an unsuspecting foot.

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