It's That Time

I'm afraid it is that time. You know, the time when you put down the telephone, look bleakly at the wall, and mutter to yourself: "It's that time ! Blast!" It was my mum, of course. She has a particularly idiotic fellow do her income tax, and the City wherein she resides decided to hassle the ancient ones with demands for more of this and that. Ditto the State - may they rot in that circle of hell reserved for States - and the Federal government. So everything worked out, but she was gun shy of the telephone, especially if the caller ID served notice that the caller was from some seat of what we euphemistically call government. Of course, as my luck would have it, hitherto she has been a dowager of fine largesse to the Republican fraternity boys who used to run...or ruin...the government. Thus, the Republican National Committee, when it gets the gleam in its eye, decides it is time to call old mums to see what kind of hand-outs are on the menu this month. Now mum, being gun shy of telephones, will no longer answer calls from Washington D.C. So when the Republican National Committee calls, she writes down the bloody number, then calls me, breathlessly spinning the yarn that she had to run all the way from the basement and across the house...just missing the phone call...but - thank goodness - has the number written down. And could it be for my daughter, her granddaughter, who moved from D.C. two years ago? At this time I muse among memory, and ask whether this is not the Republican National Committee again, since we have already down this before. Well, she knows we did it before, but this could be someone for my daughter, so past it along, would you, like a good son. So I shall have to start keeping a list of the phone numbers of the various organizations for cats, dogs, and politicians she foolishly sends her money to. It was the Republican National Committee...again. I think it reminiscent of the time in Dubois, Pennsylvania, when I went with my mother-in-law to the elevator, going down to breakfast, and looking out the east facing window and watching the sun come up over the hills. "And who are you, young man?" she said as the elevator doors closed.