(If you want to hear Lori read this story click)here

 

 

Twenty years ago my kids loved to answer the phone. They would race to be the first one there when it rang on the kitchen wall.

 

One time I was reaching to pick it up when my son begged to be allowed to instead. I withdrew my hand and he pounced to grab it. He held it to his mouth.

 

"I love you." He was instantly chagrined when the words he meant to say to me leaked into the unknown caller's ear. It was the bishop of our church, who was startled but pleased to be so fondly addressed.

 

The culture around landlines has shifted. Now that baby can brrrrrring twenty times without anyone budging from the couch.  I will come flying up from the basement scolding.

 

"Does anyone know where the phone is?" I root under cushions and quilts.

 

"I saw it around here somewhere." They look bored.

 

What happened?  A decade ago the phone call could mean any one of a host of nice folks wanted to chat. But now friends communicate via text, on cell phones, or on Facebook. The land line mostly brings solicitors, and reprimands for late payments. Who wants to say hello to them? 

 

There is the same atrophy of enticement at the post office too. I used to pine for mail, because there were often juicy letters from dear ones far away. Now letters are as rare as hen's teeth, and the stack of mail is heavy with bills and coupons for stores I never frequent. I go, but not eagerly, and merely to face the inevitable.

 

Communication in marriage can erode as well. Early on, all messages are iced with affection and the anticipation of time spent together. The other day I sat in church behind a young lady whose sweetheart sat a few pews away. They stole glances and coy smiles when the bustle of standing or singing offered camouflage. I sat in those same pews in my twenties, pretending not to have my eyes on John. Now I sit next to him, and can look all I want. 

 

But after a few storms marital exchanges can be lopsided with expectations and nagging. 

 

A friend told me that she called her husband to rant. The call was disconnected, but she was not done. She called back. He picked up and she continued without losing steam. The line was interrupted again and she clicked on redial. Amazingly he answered. She railed for five more minutes before she released her grip on the cell phone and let him go. 

 

I wonder what would happen if I picked up the phone now to call John and had not the slightest intention of getting him to do something for me?