The Telephone Game

The youngest found me upstairs, where I was literally and figuratively immersed in cleaning the toilet.

"Dad, my brother's calling from Miami."

"Tell him I'll call him back in a few minutes," I said.

After washing up, I returned the call. My oldest answered.

"Talking to me is a privilege," he said. "If you don't want to lose it, you need to start answering your phone."

"I was cleaning the toilet, for God's sake."

"Get one of my brothers to do it," he said. We both got a good laugh out of that one.

"How's college so far?" I asked.

"Great. I went to South Beach with some friends last weekend. Next weekend's the first home game, against The Ohio State University." He emphasized The with the disdain my kids have used since they first decided they hated that school, for reasons they either can't articulate or I can't understand without putting a lot more energy into the discussion than it warrants.

"I can see why you'd enjoy that," I said. "How about the part of it we're paying for?"

"The classes are interesting," he said. "We just started our biology lab."

"Do you get to dissect something?"

"Not yet."

"You should dissect something anyways. It's good practice. I'll send you a cat."

"If you're going to be stupid, I'm going to hang up," he said.

"How's the philosophy class?" I asked.

"You were right about one thing," he said. "Ayn Rand's a nut."

"Glad you agree," I said. "You must have a good professor."

"It wasn't hard to figure that out," he said.

"You'd be surprised," I said. "Hey, you know what's particularly idiotic about her essay 'Apollo and Dionysus?'"

"No, and I don't care. How's Lucy?"

"She's fine. We play Crazy Dog most nights. She runs up and down the stairs as fast as she can for five minutes while I sing the Crazy Dog song."

"I bet mom loves that," he said.

"That's what makes it so much fun," I said.

"How's Grandma?" he asked.

"She was over here last week reminding us to take her gold fillings before we have her cremated," I said. "I told her when she died we were going to have her stuffed and use her as a hat rack."

"Did she get mad at you?"

"She was already mad because I told your brothers I used to come home from school and find her passed out on the couch in front of the soap operas, clutching a jelly jar full of gin."

"What did she say?"

"She said it's too bad you're in Miami because I need more good influences."

"That's true," he mused.

"I guess we'll have to save that until you come home," I said.

"That won't be until December," he reminded me.

I know, I thought.