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54
If you read the text ahead you might smile at it or you might get annoyed by it or
you might possibly get puzzled what on earth it is about. I suggest you ponder
over it thoroughly. Does peril seem to wait round every corner? Is it true that the
corners aren’t exactly safe either? Unless you are too annoyed, try to think about
family relationships, according to the text. To put it in simpler words, is the
article only about an abnormal anxiety?
MY DAD, THE WORRIER
My father and I were watching a videotape in which my two-year-old nephew,
Cameron, ran into view with a spoon sticking out of his mouth. I knew exactly
what Dad was going to say; I practically mouthed the words along with him:
“He’ll trip and that spoon will go right into his throat.” In the next scene
Cameron raced around the coffee table. “He’s going to split his head open on the
table,” my father said with alarm. “They should pad the corners.”
“I know,” I replied. “I can’t believe they decided to have furniture!”
Dad smiled as accustomed to my mocking his cautions as I am to hearing his
warnings about even the most mundane hazards. If my father could, he would
pad all sharp corners in the world.
Like most parents, he has always tried to protect his children. And as a
doctor who specializes in public-health issues, he is especially conscious of the
seemingly innocuous dangers surrounding us.
I remember stuffing raw cookie dough into my mouth at a friend’s house
once and being surprised that nobody said a word about salmonella poisoning.
At home, “Are you choking?” was uttered as often as “Did you wash your
hands?”
Restaurants, Dad warned, presented myriad risks, from careless waiters
who might drop hot coffee on your head to employees who didn’t wash their
hands. If we scoffed, he would cite examples from his days as New York City’s
commissioner of health.
Fashion, too, could be dangerous. A few years ago he confiscated my coat
because I hadn’t had it hemmed sufficiently. Sometimes I ask about it, as I
might about an eccentric family member banished to live in the attic. Dad will
put on the coat to demonstrate how serious the problem it is.
“Look – it’s too long even on me. And this material is so heavy, it would
pull you down.”
“I have never heard of anyone being injured by too heavy a coat.”
“Do you want to be the first? Just cut it off here,” he would say, drawing
his hand across his knees.
The weather was only one of the many natural menaces from which we
had to guard ourselves. To this day when I walk within yards of tree branches, I
blink as I hear his voice: “Watch your eyes!”
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