Wednesday, March 3, 2010
I admit it, I LOVE to talk, I will talk to just about anyone, never met a stranger when it comes to talking.
Many years ago, I estimate 15 years, on Mother's Day, I was busy in the kitchen. I have a love/hate relationship with cooking and food. I tend to be around 20 pounds overweight and yet have also battled anorexia in my life- go figure. While I was toiling away , slicing,dicing and throwing together ingredients , my 7 year old son was playing phone monitor.
There is a rule, somewhere, when you are the busiest your phone will ring and ring and ring, this was one of those days. I had by this time of my role of being a MOM perfected the art of selective hearing and was not paying much attention to my son and the phone, when suddenly it occurred to me my son had answered a wrong number several times in a row.
I finally asked my son "James, who keeps calling?"
"It's some old lady asking for Mary." he says in his most annoyed voice.
"Well let me answer it next time, maybe I can figure out why she keeps calling our number." I barely finished before the phone rang again, I grabbed the phone and answered "Hello" a very frail voice asked "Is Mary there?"
"Mam there is no Mary here. What number did you dial?"
The caller rattled off MY phone number. "Well that is my number, how did you get this number?"
"Information gave me this number, I am trying to call my old friend "Mary". Her son was killed in Vietnam and my son passed away this year, I really wanted to wish her a happy Mothers day. We used to live next door when I live in Oildale on El Tejon and we were such good friends, I really regret that we have lost touch."
"El Tejon!! That's just two streets away from me. Why don't you give me your phone number and I will go over to Mary's house and let her know you are trying to call her?"
"Oh honey would you? That's so sweet!"
My son and I jumped in the car, drove over to Mary's house and knocked on the door. A bewildered older woman answered the door and I handed her a piece of paper with the callers' phone number and told her the "wrong number" story. Tears welled up in Mary's eyes, she thanked me and invited us inside. Unfortunately I had food in the oven and we had to leave.
Wrong number? I think not, that was an opportunity to teach me what Mother's Day is really about.