the life of richie


Posted in is by Rich on July 11, 2011

I was saying to someone recently, while I was working at my dad’s law office, as has apparently become my custom this summer (to estivate at the customhouse on Fridays), that being an English teacher, like my mom & I both are –– as my etymology professor had once said that The sons of linguists all become lawyers, and the sons of lawyers, linguists –– that we were all in the business, the profession, (my family, that is) of language and its interpretation.

Except for sister.

Sister, you see, is in sound (a recording engineer); has rebelled against the Linguists of South Jersey and fled to the musicians in the Hudson River Valley.

There, she listens to the acoustics in the old church where she records new groups.

She listens to the silence in her small attic apartment at night.

Listens to the conspiracy of mosquitoes on the porch.

Listens to the secret rain.

She calls to hear our mom’s voice on the phone.

I’m so alone here, she almost says, but knows that mom will over-analyze those four words and interpret them to mean that she isn’t happy, thus defeated.

Like the linguists, the sound engineer, whose business is to record that which is most beautiful, is a beautiful occupation, which also makes it a useful one.


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