Often, the folks that you love the most are the very ones who can drive you the craziest. Yes, I’m referring to family. Last weekend, I called my mother. I called my sister, who responds to every single email and phone message as soon as she can. I got a call from my cousin, who also responds to every single email and phone message as soon as he can. I emailed my brother in California on Sunday.
I’ve yet to get a reply. It’s Wednesday. I’m not surprised. In our family history, it’s taken my brother anywhere from two weeks to two months to answer an email and a “snail mail” — the term for the old-fashioned letter or card that was stamped and put in the mailbox. In fact, one day I emailed my brother and a journalist friend of mine who lives in Hong Kong on the same morning. I got a reply from my pal in Hong Kong on the same day. I think my brother in Northern California answered a week later. True, he is a family man. Having a fulltime job and raising a couple of youngsters keeps one busy. But, come on! An email, for Pete’s sake?!?!? It’s gotten to the point now that, when I do hear back from him, I say to myself “Thank goodness he’s not an operator on a suicide prevention hotline. He’d put callers on hold and go to the lunchroom.”
It does ruffle my older brother feathers because, when our parents divorced, our father was in the category of “deadbeat dad.” There wasn’t much, if any, child support. As a result, I was in my 20s and working three jobs. I had my first professional broadcast job on a morning radio show and I two part-time jobs that helped me make money to pay my brother’s Catholic high school tuition. That was one less bill for our single working mother to pay. When those tuition bills came in, I didn’t put them aside for a couple of months. I paid them. I don’t think my brother is being mean. I do think his opinion is “He’s always emailing me about family stuff. I’ll get to him when I feel like it. He can wait.”
We’ve all done that at some point to someone we know.
Monday, I woke up to get the news from an actor friend I know that a buddy of ours had died. That buddy was Ken Ober, the comedian who hosted MTV’s “Remote Control” game show in the late 80s. Ken was only 52 and, apparently, died of a sudden heart attack in his Santa Monica apartment. My friend wrote in his email message, “We’re not promised tomorrow.” I had reconnected with Ken earlier this year via Facebook. I was on the VH1 side of the building when he was working on MTV. As employees of MTV Networks we both attended company functions. I met and would see Ken at such functions. In later years, I’d see him at auditions. Ken Ober was one of the kindest, warmest, funniest and most charismatic people I encountered in my three years of working at VH1. I read the many condolences on his Facebook page from others who were shocked and saddened by the news of his unexpected death. Just about each one also mentioned how kind he was. When Ken and I reconnected on the social networking site, I wrote how glad I was to be back in touch with him again.
I’m glad I did that. It took less that a minute to write and send that email.
We’re quickly approaching the holiday season. It’s going to be a tough holiday season. Let’s face it — many folks who had houses last year for Thanksgiving and Christmas lost those houses this year. Millions of us won’t be able to travel and see relatives or be able to shop for Christmas presents to send. That Grinch called “Unemployment” has so many of us in his clutches. But we can, in this age of multiple modes of communication, let the people we care about know that we care. We can take a minute to make them feel like a priority instead of an option. We can call. We can write. We can respond. We can embrace. Remember…we’re not promised tomorrow.
Thanks for your attention. Leave a comment, if you’d like. I wish the best for you today.