Chemistry 101

This piece is written for all the women out there who may have wondered even casually during the last ten years: "Gee, could my husband be the Unabomber?" After the Washington Post printed the Unabomber's gazillion-word manifesto, I read a detailed profile of who the Unabomber probably was. Gleaned from years of circumstantial evidence, the Unabomber was smart, knew a great deal about electrical circuitry, had a real affinity for explosive devices, knew his chemistry, and had links to some major American universities. My heart started thumping wildly. My husband's bright, he can rewire anything, he grew up very familiar with all the things kids in the late 50's and early 60's were legally allowed to order from the back pages of Boy's Life and Popular Mechanics, he adores anything that blows up, he knows a lot about chemistry, and he went to college. My hand trembled as it reached to dial the number for the show, America's Most Wanted. I then stopped to think more rationally about what I was all too ready to do.......
It's true. Bill loves explosions and knowing this about himself he could have gone down a very different path. He could have become a terrorist and without doubt would have been an excellent one. Instead, he chose the only other career option offering almost unlimited access to materials necessary for powerful pyrotechnics and extraordinary explosives - he is a chemistry professor at the University of Rochester. You should read the heart-warming course evaluations written about him by the first year chemistry students after they've completed Bill's course. "Professor Jones changed my life. I never knew chemistry could be so exciting. His demonstrations were awesome!" "I was thinking about becoming a psych. major until I took Professor Jones' course and saw his explosions!" "Great explosions!" "Loved the explosions!" "Professor Jones makes chemistry FUN. Incredible explosions!" I could literally go on and on, because his freshman chemistry class had over 200 kids in it.
Bill is also well known in our neighborhood for his large collection of fireworks. These are purchased bi-annually during our vacations which, as embarrassing as this is to admit, include a day-long stop at the famous line of demarcation between North and South Carolina, oh-so-wittily called, South of the Border. I grew up in Charlotte, North Carolina, and throughout my childhood, my brother, sister, and I would literally whine until we were blue in the face for our parents to let us take one quick look at that glorious tourist trap with its gigantic statue of a man wearing an enormous sombrero. My parents would huffily explain that the only things they sold there were tacky souvenirs and fireworks, and we already had all the sparklers a family could ever need. Case closed.
As an adult, when I no longer have any possible reason to do anything but smirk in amusement at the ridiculous billboards indicating the tourist's proximity to our nation's biggest emporiums for the purchase of fireworks, I don't even want to get out of the car. My attitude is in marked contrast to that of my husband and children. By the time we've reached South of the Border, the pupils in their eyes have dilated, their hearts are pumping furiously, and they literally spring out of our '87 Chevrolet Celebrity station-wagon. The four of them run into the nearest store after grabbing a shopping cart along the way. If my husband would only look at me the way he looks at those packages of bottle rockets, roman candles, ground flowers, and torches, I wouldn't need the diamond anniversary ring telling me he'd marry me all over again.
Now that the Unabomber's densely worded manifesto proved to be his undoing, it occurred to me that Bill was never really a plausible suspect. Bill is a person who will not willingly write anything. A man who won't even sign his own name on a birthday card, purchased by his wife, for his own mother, is not going to sit down and compose hundreds and hundreds of pages describing our doomed society. Nonetheless, the FBI's apparently successful cracking of this case has left me enormously relieved.
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