Telephone = Guilt

The Oxford English Dictionary defines "senescence" as "(1) an obsolete curative powder for dropsy; (2) fancy pewter; or (3) a second-rate bildungsroman," I'm pretty sure. Whatever. In any case, I hope that my grandkids phone me a lot more often than I phone my grandparents (as long as they're not insufferable. Now, I recognize that I may very well be incredibly insufferable as a grandchild. But if I am, I believe it's my grandparents' responsibility to tell me. They can break it to me gently. Puppet theater, acrostics-- many options are available).

I have met other people's grandparents. Many of them are horrible, bloviating, palsied, evil people. Many of them I have not met, because they are no longer around. As such, I am confident in proclaiming that I am extraordinarily lucky to have such lovely people as my kin-- alive & kicking, no less. So whence my reluctance to call? What is wrong with me, besides the obvious?

Perhaps, 50 years from now, I will be in an old folks' home. My only entertainment will be the occasional "indie rock night" in the cafeteria, or maybe ironic golf. And-- sweet justice!-- my grandchildren will be far too busy "jet-packing," or posting scans of their reproductive organs on the HoloWeb, to give me a buzz. And I will deserve my fate.

People out there in the lonely world, phone your parents or grandparents. And tell them Corn Chips & Pie sent you.