The writing on the wall

In the little hallway at the top of our basement stairs is a wall where we have taken the measure of many a man, woman, child, and also a dog or two. The day we moved into this house, in the summer of 2003, we started marking heights. Some people grew, and others didn't. Some grew a whole lot, others just a smidge. We haven't marked feet or inches, or meters--just names and dates, because the story is all about relative heights: who's taller than whom, and when did they get that way.

Peter observed recently that he is now shorter than his mark from a few months ago. Evidently, the wall preserves error as well as truth. In other words, there's all of history, right there written on the wall.

Tallest at the moment is Izaak, a 16-year-old friend of Hank's who almost has to stoop to get through the door--and who is doubtless still growing. Shortest is Dobby the dog. In Alabama, they have a saying: Thank God for MIssissippi. The saying stems from the fact that without Mississippi, Alabama would likely rank at the very bottom instead of the near-bottom on measures of social and cultural poverty. Steins can say thank God for Dobby, who makes everybody else look wicked tall.