Boxes Made of Stone
According to my grandmother, everything started on April 21st, 1972. A postman delivered a large white cardboard box whose contents were several hand crafted leather bound books. Each book was filled with meticulously drawn symbols and diagrams. As my grandfather removed each book and tenderly rifled through its pages, he became more perplex with each turn.
“He had no idea what he was looking at.”
Abram wasn’t a linguist in the academic sense, but after spending much of his life among many of the tribal groups of Brazil, he was very capable. Under normal circumstances though, the language, while verbal only, would be complete and articulate. He would learn the spoken word and, over time, create a written language that could be taught and adopted by the indigenous people.
“He was brilliant! Language came easy to him. I’d never seen him so baffled before.”
This was completely opposite to what he was used to. There was no verbal language to go off of, and no apparent frame of reference by which to begin.
For the rest of that year, the bruised and dejected box remained untouched next to his desk, gathering its thin layer of dust. It was an enigma with no key. As far as my grandfather was concerned, that box might as well of been made of stone.
On April 21st, 1973, a second box arrived, identical to the first. Accompanying this box though, was a small letter. In barely legible handing, its two short sentences read, “It was my intention to send this box first. I apologize.”
There was no signature.