A Walk On The Moon

My dad really enjoyed this trip

The first time, I didn't think much about it.  The phone rang.  I answered.  "Hello?" I said, in my friendly voice, as opposed to my bitchy-why-are-you-calling-what-are-you-selling voice.  I was at my dad's condo.  I thought I should answer the way he used to answer his phone -- full of happy expectation, as though someone nice were calling to tell him something good. Of course, this was rarely the case, but he was the optimist in the family, always looking on the bright side. Important to have one of those types in the family, so that everyone else can project unhealthy skepticism, if not all-out doom-and-gloom, whether the phone is ringing or not.  Not that my dad was perfect, phone-wise.  There were times he wasn't great on the phone.  If you caught him while he was making lunch or dinner, watching the Lakers, writing an email, reading the New Yorker, putting away his groceries or watering the few plants he hadn't killed, his voice carried an impatient, I-can't-talk-to-you-now-I'm-very-busy tone.

But back to hello.  "Hello?" I said again.  No one said anything.  On the other end, it sounded, well, there's no easy way to put this, dead. "Hmm," I said to no one, mainly because no one else was present, at least not from a metaphysical, spooky sense.  It was just me, back at the condo, sorting through stuff, debating whether to throw out an important stack of statements from 1954, or keep it just for old time's sake.  And by old I mean really old.

Yesterday I found myself at the condo again.  When the phone rang, I happened to be sitting at his desk, reading through the most wonderful letters he'd sent me at camp.  I'd just laughed out loud at one of his lines from 1969 -- "Back from my big walk on the moon.  It went well, in case you're interested." Ring, ring. "Hello?" I said.  On the other end, bupkis.  "Hello?" I said again.  Nothing.  "Dad?" I said, which was silly of me, but then, I'd read that book, "Phone Calls From The Dead," and figured, hey, why the eff not?  "I love you, Daddy," I said, waited a few beats, then hung up, positive it was him, just checking in.  Listen, not everything has to make sense all the time.  And this, I'm happy to tell you, was just one of those times.  Next call, I'll make sure to send him your love, too.