Several years ago when there were living parents and grandparents in my immediate family, there was a fragile period when the sound of the telephone ringing at our home would induce something akin to an electrical-shock-panic attack. I'm sure that I am wrong, but it seems the telephone, historically, delivered far more bad news to our home than good news. The last few weeks reminded me of some of that time: a nephew who lived the first months of his life in our home called to say that he had been in an accident and his car had been totalled by a careless driver; a call with the details of a memorial service for the mom of a long-time family friend, several calls about our 5 year-old great niece struggling with post-op complications after having golf ball sized tonsils removed, calls from a close family friend whose dad is facing the possibility of hospice care as a result of leukemia, and the-stranded-spouse call letting me know that our family minivan's transmission died suddenly on Thompson Lane...all in all, not our better weeks for phone calls.
And Saturday night added the exclamation point. Sometime around 10:00PM, someone broke into my son's apartment on Belmont Boulevard, literally knocking a whole window into his bedroom floor. Then, after collecting whatever electronnics and DVD's that would fit into a pillow case and making a general ransacked mess, the intruder escaped into the night (with a similar stop at a neighboring apartment). Luckily my son was not at home and the only thing missing were replaceable things...but it made for a stressful phone call followed by a sleepless night for us all (not to mention a brief time of mourning for the stolen Indiana Jones, Matrix, and two seasons of 24 collections).
This is all the fault of that ringing device! ...maybe a vibrating or blinking light systems can be trained to deliver good news only. I am ready for that! *smile*
UPDATE 10/20: Melinama from Pratie Place links to the perfect illustration.
