For Whom the Phone Rings

We have an old fashioned wall phone.

It's black, plastic and rings with a real bell. Usually it is someone taking a survey or wanting me to buy tickets to the circus for less fortunate children.

I love it, that phone.

Every now and then it's actually for me.

Saturday evening the phone rang and it was indeed for me. It was my Pappy. You must first know that my Pappy lives on several acres out in the country. It's all very Texas. Once a working cotton farm, it's now home to Pappy, his cat Tom and a few very lazy old horses that he keeps around for company.

Oh yes, and an Indian sweat lodge.

Doesn't every grandad have a sweat lodge on his property? He'll rent out pasture space for your horses, your cows your goats. Just come and tend to them. It's all just a bit of extra income, plus I think he enjoys seeing the land used for what God intended, to provide. But he also has quite the sense of adventure and humor. So when a few local Native Americans approached him about building a sweat lodge on his property, he naturally jumped at the idea. Everyone in town knows about his sweat lodge. I've admonished him to stay out of the sweat lodge; the heat isn't good for his blood pressure. As far as I know, he abides. He does enjoy walking down to visit with them when they come for their ceremonies. Apparently they enjoy visiting with him too.

So as I was saying, my favorite black plastic phone rings and it's him. He asks if he showed me his newest photo. He hadn't. On his last visit to the sweat lodge, they let him try on an amazing headdress; it's over 100 years old. I can tell this event really tickled him. Naturally, they made his picture. He tells me he only has one copy and he's going to mail it to me.

This arrived in the mail today.

I love this man. What will I do when that black plastic phone doesn't ring for me any more and he's not on the other end?