I am visiting one of my few remaining first cousins, son of my father’s sister – M – and his wife in Denver next week. His younger brother is coming in from California for the reunion. I’ve only met M in person three or four times (no, my father’s family was not terribly close-knit), and not since 1979 which is actually a story in itself.
In June of 1979 my 10 year old daughter and I had met much of the rest of my dad’s remaining family in Texas for the wedding of another cousin. M is close to my age and we had bonded as kids in the rare times we had seen one another and kept in touch over the years. When I missed my flight at the airport and could only get one seat on the next one, he immediately asked if my daughter could just stay with him for a day or two. This is someone who didn’t have kids (still doesn’t) but the two of them had really hit it off and she was so excited she literally waved goodbye over her shoulder as they left the terminal. Apparently he had promised her Six Flags and even then she knew a good thing when she heard it. She hardly wanted to leave Texas because he spoiled her rotten with roller coasters, Monopoly, and bar-b-que!!! (And don’t let your mind go to icky-ville, he was more of a kid than she was.)
Anyway. I’ve become more aware of life’s mortal coil in recent years and decided 33 years is quite long enough. Lord, he’s been married for most of it and I’ve never met his wife!!
So I send him my flight and cell #’s – realizing we had corresponded by mail and email for all those years – but never by phone. Really.
And that, people, is proof positive why everyone in bars, restaurants, trains, elevators and sidewalks is heads down typing on keyboards.