I am one of those people who reads – a lot; fortunately for me, when they talk of addictions they don’t call readers addicts – they call them bookworms. I have learned to adapt my reading to what is going on around me after all these years, but sometimes I revert to my primal state. Tonight was one of those times. After several questions from my grandson, I asked loudly, “Can’t you see I am READING?”
That brings my granddaughter out to where I am to quote what I said to her the night before: “If you can’t ignore people talking, you are not a good reader.” And, of course, I had to answer that there is a difference between people talking and being asked a direct question. But then, to her anything her brother asks is not worthy of note and I am wrong not to ignore him as well
So, I get them off my back . . . and then I get a phone call. Okay, fine, we’re talking, talking, talking and then that call is over and I settle in. I always call my mother in the evening to make certain she is all right; tonight she called me and after a while I told her I was reading, almost to the end of the book. Finally, finally she gets off the line.
Then 30 minutes later the phone goes off on the table, playing Honky Tonk Blues and vibrating against the wood. And I knew. I really, really knew. I answered with a gritted out hello and I heard, “Did you finish your book and then . . . and this is from a notoriously grouchy lady . . . laughter.
This is that lady, in case you don’t remember:
My kids learned early in life that the only way to get mom’s attention when she was in a book was to physically lay their hand on me… which usually resulted in a brusk “what do you want now?” or an occasional scream of fright because I was totally oblivious to their presence.