Correspondences

A while back ama wrote about not answering the phone, not returning calls or emails or letters, and so on.

She is the kind of person who can say, apparently with no concern or doubt whatsoever, “people can love you without replying to your emails.”

I know there are people like this out there. She’s one. And some of my friends are, too.

Me, I’m the jealous, paranoid, faithless, bitter type.

If you don’t answer your phone (there are two of you I am thinking of), I am hurt and offended. What, is your homeschooling or nap or whatever you do all day long so important that you don’t want to talk to me? (Tongue in cheek, sort of.) It makes spontaneity impossible. And at least one of you used to call me spontaneously in the morning, saying, hey, let’s go to South Bend, or Valparaiso, or…

I hate the phone to begin with. And it’s adding insult to have to face your machine every time.

And if you don’t answer your phone, could you at least think about returning the call at the earliest chance? When I call inviting you to lunch, it would be nice to know by lunchtime at least that you can’t come, but maybe, since you’re my friend, you appreciated the invitation?

You have no idea how hard it is for me to take the initiative and plan something social. I’m not that brave most of the time. So it’s usually spontaneous or nothing. And that means pretty much it’s nothing. (I’m working on it, people. It’s just hard. I’ve never been good at picking up on social cues, and so I err on the negative side, assuming that if people don’t talk to me, they don’t like me.)

I’ve given up on Christmas cards, because I can’t fathom how it can be sufficient to send one newsletter each year and feel connected with your friends. A few times I tried to reconnect by writing a letter in response to a newsletter. No answers. All you want, you newsletter people, is to do your bit and be done with it. You apparently don’t want any more conversation. That doesn’t count as friendship, to me. (Except I, too, have a few people I am content to have very infrequent contact with; I guess we all prioritize our friends that way?)

I’m not sure if any of my (met in real life) friends read my blog, at least not regularly. That’s fine, there’s no obligation. But I read my friends’ blogs, those two who have them, as consistently as they post. I wish all my friends blogged. And read blogs.

So, if you are one of those people who thinks warm thoughts about your friends when you read their blog, or their email or letter, or listen to their phone message, or just when something reminds you of them, but feel no need to tell them about it, or at least other things push that desire out of the living possibilities, which, really, theoretically, I understand and appreciate, this post is just to let you know that your friends may not be as faithful, as constant, as generous as you are; they may be like me instead.

Have mercy on our weakness — speak to us.