Note: The Board of Directors Here at Spo-Reflections was worried this tongue-in-cheek entry would be seen as doleful or remonstrative.  I thought its humor dry but obvious. In the end rather than sending it to the shredder and me to the rack I am writing this introduction of clarification.  Please don’t write in or send Zoloft.

I realize my parents don’t want to talk to me anymore. This is not a happy conclusion but probably true. If I were to substitute ‘Friend X” for my parents I would have connected the dots and kissed off X a long time ago. You know the signs: You realize you are the one doing all the reaching out. When you get hold of X, X is always just sitting down to dinner or watching TV or going out the door so please let’s keep this short. X may ask some questions, but you sense X isn’t really interested in your replies. Long periods of time may go by between attempts to reach X but X doesn’t seem deprived. Playing the game “I will let X contact me” is a losing endeavor for X won’t.

It is not that my parents are uncaring. Far from it. They are loving people who are very happy in their world of daily doings and local sons who regularly drop in with grandchildren and puppy-dogs. It just doesn’t include me that’s all. I am literally and figuratively far away and out of mind.

It wasn’t always so. I used to be #1 son and centre of their universe, the boy with all the talent, wit, and achievement. But then I grew up. I can not compete with grandkids and who can blame them?

P&M are far too nice to admit to any of this. Sometimes I say “Father, it’s OK. You can say you don’t want to talk to me let’s hang up. “ They are shocked by this and deny such but then as we continue I sense they are watching football and waiting to hang up.

Truth be told I don’t really want to talk to them at the moment either. Lifelong Republicans, they proudly point out they did not vote for Trump but left that blank. It was their first time not voting for a president in decades. They voted GOP for everything else. Thanks, dad.

It’s not the best of times to make such decisions but I am seriously considering canceling going home for Christmas. I am going mostly out guilt for having not been ‘home’ for some years and there is a sense Mother doesn’t have many Christmases left.

I will probably go only as the ticket isn’t likely refundable.

Ah, parents. I suppose I shouldn’t knock’em too much. After all if it weren’t for parents I’d be essentially out of a job.