I’d thought to title this “Hi, Ma“, I spoke calmly into the phone; you won’t believe what happened next!!
But on second thought, any clickers I prefer to bait would be just as likely to respond to Bob Dylan.
At any rate:
‘Hi Mom’, I said calmly into the phone.
“Vo-fon husht du meine Nommer?”
Oy, looks like I’ll have to translate half of this; (‘Where’d you get my number?’) Guessing that in Heaven they speak whatever language comes most naturally, and the angels just ‘grok’ it, or wing it.
“Directory Assistance, Ma. Don’t ask; they play Barry Manilov for like, ages”
‘Oy grundt!’ A good sign, she sympathizes with my frustration.
“Coulda been worse; the 666 area-code puts you on hold for, like, an eternity!”
First joke here, and I’m still not sure she ‘got it’, although she did react:
“Ve viest du?” (So how did you know that?)
“Oh, saw it on the net”, I said, giving her an out.
“Anyway, Ma, I got two problems.”
This seemed to lift her spirits. As I’ve learned down here on earth, some folks are much better at sympathy than at congratulations; Read on…
“Yeah, one’s health-related, and the other’s financial.”
“Oy, ve langa ve schlimma!” she co-miserated. (‘The longer it goes, the worse it gets’). I decided to go right to the punch-line:
‘Yeah, I got money coming out my ears, and I can’t decide how to spend it all.” (rim-shot)
Silence. Didn’t know they had crickets in Heaven. She did recover, after a pause, from the horror of having to express congratulations. Seems Pennsylvania Dutch has no words for it, much as Inuit lacks descriptives for snow-free sidewalks.
“Chonny, this is long-distance!” she reminded me, stuck in the 50s. “So, who died?”
In those days phones were for deaths, or marriages (a slower death?)
“Nobody, Momma. I just had this joke I wuz dying to tell someone, and I’m, like all giddy, and forgot about, you know, sense of humor being kinda un-equally parceled out at birth an’all..”
“So good of you to call”, she eventually regained composure, adding, “Call anytime if you need help.”
And dat wuz dat.
Hey, I do need help, I thought. How to quickly blow thousands of bucks before Drumpf slams the door on even yids who want to visit his white-power paradise. Or raises the retirement age to 70 to finance his worthless pathetic Wall.
Oh well, at least I have my Mom to chat with. She left us under a Bush, woulda prolly voted for the ‘schvartze’ and now is safe from the ‘es ludert’ (‘it stinketh!’) of the present Impostor.
Like they say: ‘The living will envy the Dead’. Never really ‘fershtehst’ (‘unnerstood it’) it till yesterday.