upfromdysfunction.com

         ”…So far away.
         Doesn’t anybody stay in one place any more?”

Hal and Margie drove south last week. She’s on Spring Break; they deserve to get away. Fine.

But I miss my brother. And I miss my kids. Friends? They are many, but scattered. What was wrong with everyone living in Cleveland? Seemed fair to me. In a week where I was busy but lonely, connections were too often through voice mail:

“Mom…it’s Bruce. Berkowitz sent the postcard and your yahrtzeit’s coming up. Can’t believe it’s two years. I love you.”

“Hey, H….Sorry about the Tarheels. I know you don’t watch the games live; I know you can’t take it. Hope it didn’t ruin your trip. I miss you. Even though we only see each other once or twice a week, just having you ‘round the corner gives me comfort. You don’t know how lucky you are to have all your kids in town. Mine are on assignment out-of-state. Miss you.”

“Michael! It’s your father. Thanks for calling Sunday. Max on Skype jump-started the day. I can’t believe he’s rolling over now. We need to rethink the third baseman thing—maybe play him at short. He moves to his right better than I ever did. Say hello to my beautiful daughter-in-law.”

“Walt. Missed you the last few Wednesdays. When are you coming back? You’d have been proud of me Friday. Final table. Played flawless for five hours then made one mistake. Knew it the minute I did it, but still…It was in Parma—York Road and Pleasant Valley. Awful lonely ride home late at night. But still…”

“Alan, call me. We need to talk about Vegas. The Beachwood guys want to go the week before Labor Day and come home Labor Day itself. Is that because the kids from the rich neighborhood never worked?”

ONLY ONE PERSON ANSWERED THE PHONE. FRIENDS AND FAMILY WERE BUSY. ALAS, ALL CALLS WENT TO RECORDINGS….BUT ONE:

“Hello?”
“Aunt Helen?”
“Harold!!!!!!?”’
“No, it’s Bruce.”
“oh…”
“Just called to say hello.”
“When’s your brother coming home?”
“OK, bye.”

Not that the week’s been bad. Got the office settled. Had breakfast with Jacobson, brunched with Bobby, did dinner with Matthew. Even made a few bucks and… the lady at Locksmith wants to fix me up with someone.

Still, I miss my brother. And I miss my kids. And hear the silence. Come to think of it, though, I DID leave one more message:

“Hey, Dad. It’s Bruce. I miss you. Thanks for teaching me to play solitaire.”

          “It would be so fine to see your face at my door.”

  

                                Carole King

This entry was posted on Wednesday, March 30th, 2011 at 4:03 am and is filed under Up From Dysfunction. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.