Conversations With My Sisters: Buy a Cell Phone So We Can End This Drought

I am coming to the realization that technology is getting in the way of my relationships. Once upon a time long ago, people used to call me. Not so much anymore. I don’t even look at my answering machine because the only people who leave messages are charity groups. Even my stalwart friend Erica doesn’t phone anymore. “Why would I?”, she says “You don’t answer your phone and you don’t return calls. If I didn’t know better I’d say you didn’t love me.” You see, my preferred method of communication, is text. I like to write people (often randomly) pop in, say hello at all hours of the day and night and then get the hell out of dodge but not before including an adorable emoticon to convey my genuine emotion.

Unfortunately, I am diametrically opposed to one of my sisters. Let’s call her Jokelee. Jokelee (the owner of the late Birdie) is the bastion of non-social communication. She is on facebook but has no friends. The friendly thoughtful algorithm in fb’s sidebar frequently reminds me to help my sister find more fb friends. She doesn’t really need help finding friends. She is the same person who goes to the liquor store and invites half the people in the line-up home for a little dinner for 20.

So while actually talking to my text friendly sister Petra I told her to tell Jokelee to get a cell phone so we can connect. “I’ll mention it to her.” she said.
Me. “Good. Tell her if she needs help texting I’ll teach her.”
Her: Why don’t you tell her yourself?
Me: Because the last time I called (3 months ago) her line was busy and she has no auto voice mail.
Her: Alright. But she won’t do it.
Me: Just tell her.

Next phone call:
Her: Have you talked to her?
Me: No. Did you tell her?
Her: Yup.
Me: What did she say?
Her: Not likely.
Me: Oh.

Many months later. Guilt is setting in. Jokelee is probably really mad at me. What could she be mad at? I’ve done nothing wrong. I’ll send her an email and tell her I love her and mention the phone.
3 weeks later. THE GUILT IS KILLING ME. I’m breaking down. I am convinced she hates me and is seething with anger at some unbeknownst slight I have perpetrated against her person. I should phone. I’m going to phone. When I mention this to my brother he agrees with me. “She’s probably really mad about something. What did you to her?” “I didn’t do anything.” “Well you must have.” he says. Thanks.

So I phone her.

Ring Ring
Jokelee: Hello
Me: hi
Jokelee: Hey!
Me: I figured if I can’t make the mountain come to me I will come to the mountain.
And we erupt into wild laughter.
Jokelee: Petra told me you told her I should get a phone. What the hell should I get a phone for? So I can tweet all of you what I had for breakfast.
Me: You mean text.
Jokelee: Hey I’m tweeting you and everyone else that I’m slicing peaches. How exciting is that? Or that I’m just arriving at your house. Hey I’m tweeting that I’m going to zoomba again! I’ve done a cost analysis of getting a cell phone. I’m not doing it. I think of phoning you but you never answer your phone.
Me: I know. I still won’t answer my phone but my compromise is that I am going to phone you more regularly. The anxiety of not talking to you isn’t good for my soul.

And so our conversation goes. Like sisters. We laughed like the old friends we are. The comfort of family is like fitting perfectly into a curve. It snaps together. We’re over our drought and will continue on. And me. I’m going to try and use the phone. Every so often. Because I’m flexible. Sort of.