Journal of a Living Lady #254
Nancy White Kelly
Bob, Sue, Alan…if you phoned last week, please accept my apologies for not returning your call. I have a wonderful husband, but he has a few minor flaws. One is his memory. Sometimes he forgets to tell me when someone calls though we have a white board for recording messages. When Buddy does recall that somebody phoned me, he usually relays only the first name. That is my dilemma today. I don’t know which Bob, Sue or Alan phoned. I must go down the check list.
Bob Davis? Bob Alwine? Not likely since I just saw them at church yesterday and neither mentioned it. Bob Zuegel? Haven’t seen or heard from him in several months. Besides, he would be more likely to want to speak to Buddy in that they worked together at Eastern Airlines years ago.
My brother, Bob White? No, Buddy says. He would remember that voice. Bob, my youngest brother, mumbles softly, as in a subdued whisper. That is a strange voice for a gentle giant who is over 6 feet tall and ports a full beard and long hair.
Bobby, our adopted son? Could be since he calls me several times a week. If so, the call probably wasn’t urgent. Just chit-chat.
Bob Cleveland? Not likely. Bob and I met because of this column. He and wife, Peg, came all the way from Birmingham to visit me one November when I was in the hospital and nigh unto death. They even came to Charlie’s wedding. Bob is a retired insurance executive and promising writer. We enjoy a friendly relationship, but have never phoned each other. My guess is that it wasn’t Bob Cleveland.
There are other Bobs I know, of course, and several named Robert. I can think of none who has unfinished business or an on-going conversation with me. Oh, well, I may never know which Bob called.
Then there was a Sue. My friend, Sue Kazmierczak lives in Michigan. We met on the Internet and she has been an overnight guest in our home. Surely Buddy would recognize her distinctly Northern accent.
Sue Heinish is Max’s wife. She could have called, but her husband generally does the phoning. Max and Buddy worked together at the airlines also. Sue and I share a love for flowers.
Sue Tate might have called. We attend church together and have a mutual interest in moral concerns on a national level. Yet, I have signed all current petitions and pleading letters to Congressmen and Senators. There is no immediate issue I am aware of that needs to be addressed. Besides, I am confident that this Sue would have called back.
My friend, Sue Bove? She is a semi-retired missionary with New Tribes Missions who spent several years in Indonesia. Sue and her husband, Mike, visit frequently. I think she knows Buddy well enough to know that she needs to speak with me regarding a vist. That is, if they expect clean sheets and meals.
And which Alan? Allan Driskell, our Sunday School teacher? No, Buddy says. Alan Black, my brother-in-law. No, Buddy says again. Nobody could mistake his distinctively slow, Southern drawl. Well, Alan Ladd is dead and why would he call me anyway?
If it were Haydn, Margit, Teen, or Febe, I would not be having this problem. I only know one of each.
So Bob, Sue, Alan. Again, please accept my apology for not returning your call. Come by the house if you really need to talk. I’ll leave the porch light on for you.