Sometimes I wonder if I’m a bad Brother, Son, and friend. Not because I’m a nasty person, not because I’ve ever done anything to be ashamed of, but because I don’t pickup the phone. I love talking, and I love talking to my family, I’m just not very good at long distance conversation instigation. This isn’t limited to my parents and brothers. I’m not very good at calling friends either. And if I’m away from home, I’m not quick to call Victoria and the kids. It’s just the way I am.
I think about my parents every day. It’s hard not to think about your parents when you have children. In the good times and the bad times, I wonder just what my parents would have done in that situation. When my children are playing or indeed fighting, I think about the same times I would have had with my brothers. When my brain drops down into idle, I generally find myself thinking about my family.
Just this weekend I was thinking about my elder brother and his family, thinking that I should give him a call, thinking that he calls me far more than I ever call him and that it’s about time that I ring him and find out, “How’s things? How are you? What are you up to?” etc…
but instead, here I am Monday morning thinking about the fact that I didn’t call…. … I promise myself I will call tonight…
Back in the 80’s I had some records by an artist called