Hello!

When I called my parents to say hello this morning, my father picked up with the same melodic hello! he always uses. No Caller ID at their house. I could be a neighbor, a daughter, or a scammer and his hello! would be the same. G below middle C to Eb, then quickly to C with the emphasis on the second syllable. If you slowed his hello! down, it would be the blues in C minor. While the phone is ringing and I’m waiting for him to pick-up, I sing his hello! out loud to myself just to see if mine will be the same as his when he answers, and it always is. I like being connected to him in that way.

Turns out my brother is visiting from California. The three of them — Mom, Dad, and Bill — were sitting around the dining room table reading newspapers tossed from a car to their sidewalk every morning: the New York Times, the Philadelphia Inquirer, and the Financial Times. When I asked what they were up to, my father said they’d been talking about Capitalism in the Chinese Economy. It made me smile to hear that. It was only 10:30 in the morning on the east coast. For me, the three of them sitting around the table reading, sipping on instant coffee, eating English muffins and scrambled eggs with their eyes on a newspaper is as familiar as riding a bike. I can call up every detail of that room: the chairs’ failing cushions, the violets and geraniums in the bay window, the teacups and knick knacks in the china closet, the sound of the swinging door to the kitchen, and the grandfather clock in the corner. When it gongs on the half-hour, we keep reading or talking, all of us long since used to it. The room’s been mostly the same for the 60-plus years our family has been centered around it.

Out here in Oregon, Brent and I tend to be on-line for the news. We sit together in his office while we read in the morning, but it’s electronic, and often includes audio. It’s a whole different experience. My guess is most people are more like us these days.

On our walk this morning, Suki, Barb, and I talked about getting older and giving ourselves permission to stay engaged with what’s happening in the news while not letting it steal whatever joy we can create in our lives. The three of us are lucky enough to be able to think like that. But there’s power in refusing to be clobbered by the news. For me, it proves that joy is something to be created, not something that’s given. Somedays that’s easier than others. My father’s hello! suggests he’s good at it.

Love,
Bar

thank you!