Old School Night On The Phone

The phone rings. It's my friend Ron, with whom I share a birthday. Yes, I'm moving to a pseudonym-rich environment here. You know Ron if you know him. I haven't talked to Ron in a while. He got busy getting married and moving and all that. I like Ron. I like him because he is a constant, like e or pi, a quantity that does not change. I might learn a few more decimal points but he does not change. As someone who changes a lot, well, this is refreshing.

If there ever was any proof against astrology it would be me and Ron.

As things go in this small town, he lives nearby and his new wife's daughter (I suppose his step-daughter, although that reminds me more of Cinderella and her evil stepmother and while Ron may be many things, he will never be evil). The girl goes to the school frequented by many families I know, including two that live on my block. And so suddenly he's a dad and he's thinking about throwing his hat in the ring for school board there and has lots of opinions, which of course are mostly like mine when it comes to education.

I tell him how I'd been on his street, his new street, just recently, but couldn't remember his address if I ever knew it. I told him how I said to Sophia that we should look for a mezuzah, that I thought maybe he might have one, since his wife recently converted to Judaism (he is a, do they call them cradle Jews like they do cradle Catholics?). But that I didn't notice one from the sidewalk. He confirms that yes, they do have one, and I regret, for real, that I didn't look more closely.

"But I got to explain what a mezuzah was to Sophia, so it wasn't a total loss. And of course there was the pastrami on rye," I add. They live on the same block as one of my favorite delis.

We talk just a bit more. He tells me how they've just laid new carpet upstairs but it didn't seem to have an odor and he knew Maeve was a requested entity at his house. Maeve and Sophia both. I told him of course, and that I'd check out the carpet before I sent Maeve in. I was touched that he picked up on the detail and remembered again, not that I'd forgotten, that he was a mensch.

His wife buzzed in on the other line and we hung up. Moments later the phone rings again and I assume he's calling back. But no--it's another friend from college, Jesse, who is the one who often calls and derails my evening. Or afternoon. Or nap. Or whatever. He's a bit of a sticky personality and even though I french-kissed him at his wedding, I will defend myself by saying I was drunk. I really like Jesse but I'm glad we didn't date. I'm glad Mike asked me first because I was at this pliable moment when I'd broken up with the boy from high school (who needs a pseudonym desperately) and could have dated Mike or Jesse or Ron. Not that I would have married Jesse or Ron. Just saying they were in a certain category at a certain moment.

But I take a deep breath and decide I'm going to talk to Jesse. And you know what? The first thing he asks is if I have a moment, and I tell him I have about 15 moments before dinner. "That's plenty," he declares, and then there's about a 10 minute tangent about See 'N Says and how one might hack into such a toy and make it See 'N Say what you want it to. I don't know how one might accomplish such a feat, but he has me get online because someone at a tollbooth (yes, Jesse is the kind of guy who strikes up conversations at tollbooths) told him he'd seen just that sort of thing on this or that website. I look on this-or-that.com and don't find anything like that. Speak and Spell. Ah. He's seen lots on Speak and Spell hacks. Ah well.

He's going to let me go, but I stop him. I ask him if he'll keep my brother and his family in his prayers. I tell him the story, at first thinking to myself that I don't really need to do this, but as the words "Down Syndrome" come out of my mouth I realize why I'm saying this, what in the back of my brain made me say anything. Jesse is the youngest of five, and number 3 or 4 in that family tree was a girl with DS who died before Jesse was born. He tells me of course he will. And I know he will because he's not the sort who says one thing and does another. To the point of complete and total aggravation he's not that sort. There are no white lies there are no reassurances there are no rewordings. And so I know it is so and I get off the phone feeling ok and glad he called.

It's like having two weird older brothers who call when they think to. One is Jewish and the other is Cuban but I think we're related by college (kind of like being related by marriage). And I think I'm happy about that.