Wednesday, July 2, 2008
This blog will be four years old in November, and if you've been along for the ride, you probably realize by now that I'm not what you would call a warm and fuzzy "people person." I talk for a living. I'm talked to, for a living. When I'm off duty, I don't want to talk.
The last several weeks haven't been fun. I couple people I know passed away. A couple others are battling some severe health issues. Some people in my life continue to disappoint. Thankfully, it's a small number. I've been a little more tired than usual, and the Tampa Bay Rays are in first place in the American League East. On top of all that, I worry about everything. It's a pre-existing condition.
I violated my "no talk" policy in mid-May, when I called a former college classmate on the 25th anniversary of our graduation. She blew off the reunion. So did I. Thanks to conflicting schedules and her malfunctioning answering machine, we never connected. I was about to give up when I decided to give it one more try. That was last week. The answering machine has been repaired. I left a message. The return call came Monday afternoon. It was 31 minutes and 34 seconds of heaven.
I really needed to hear a friendly voice. She sounded exactly the same, and her memory of events 25 years ago was astounding. It was worth suspending my "no talk" policy for an afternoon.
AT 12:01 AM