Broken Window
Blinds
by Walt
Giersbach
In
Manassas, Va., the old housing code defined
“family” as any group of people defined
by blood or marriage. In December 2005 a new
definition limited family to immediate relatives
of homeowners. Parents, children and siblings
were family; uncles, cousins, nieces and nephews
were not. This definition was repealed in January
2006.
The problem
wouldn’t have come up if the window blinds
hadn’t been broken. That’s why the
neighbors complained. Carson was compelled as
zoning commissioner to drive over to the
Gibsons’.
“Mrs.
Gibson,” he said, “How many people are
domiciled in this house?”
The sounds of
shrieking children came from inside. Someone
played an amplified guitar in the kitchen, and
four men dealt cards at the dining table.
“What do
you mean, people?” she asked.
“This is our family.”
“Under
Article II of the town code,” he recited,
“you’re only allowed two or more
persons related to the second degree of
collateral consanguinity or otherwise duly
authorized custodial relationship, as verified by
official public records, living together as a
single housekeeping unit, exclusive of not more
than one additional non-related person.” He
took a deep breath.
“What’s
that mean?”
“That
means you can have yourself, a spouse and your
children.
“Baloney!
Nobody authorized my dad to be my dad. My brother-in-law
Al’s family are here just till he finds work.”
“Well,
there you are. They’re unauthorized.”
“My
uncle’s here because he has phlebitis and my
nephew takes him to the doctor. The kids just
happened. It’s called biology.”
“Gibson
conceded, “Your children are all right.”
“Well, my
five came out all right, but I don’t know
about Al and Joanie’s four.”
Tom Carson
rose to his full height. “You have a three-bedroom
house. How many people should live here? Twelve?
Fourteen?” This rhetorical question passed
over Mrs. Gibson’s head.
“It’s
extended family. Didn’t your grandparents
come from somewhere, like those islands in Europe?”
she asked. “You think there’s only
standard-issue families?”
“You have
five children and your sister-in-law has four.”
He squinted. “Aren’t you rather
sexually active?”
She snorted.
“No, we just lie there.”
“This
isn’t normal! There are rules about
how many people can live in a domicile. We must
have rules, else why do we have a zoning
commission? The whole thing could come unglued
and then where would I be?”
“Maybe
it’s gotten out of hand.”
“Then—we
agree there are too many people to call this a
family?”
“When
Jason arrived I said it might be too much.”
“Who’s
Jason.”
“Jason
and I…” Quietly, she continued,
“Have a relationship. My husband has a
prostate condition, so we agreed Jason could come
and see me.”
“Jason
isn’t family!” Carson exploded.
“He said,
in a manner of speaking, I was wife to him and
George, so it was natural to put his bedroll on
the porch.”
Carson put a
hand over his eyes. “Mrs. Gibson, I’m
leaving, but please fix your window blinds—and
keep them closed!” He turned, “And
don’t talk to your neighbors!”
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