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.
Thanks.
