Tuesday, August 19, 2008
"The real mystery of life is not a problem to be solved, it is a reality to be experienced."
-J.J. Van der Leeuw
Mater woke up yesterday morning, reached for her cell phone and constructed a message of goodwill and sympathy to my brother. He injured his hand the other evening and Mater, wondering what the condition of the bandaged appendage might be, carefully typed: "how is my poor son's hand?"
No, thought she, it was best not to suggest that he might be impoverished.
She quickly adjusted the appropriate letters: "how is my son's poor hand?" and sent off the message with a flourish.
Moments later a call came from the fellow in question.
Tongue firmly in cheek, he exclaimed, "what do you mean, saying I'm your poor son? I'm not poor! I'm rich!"
Mater soon advised my brother that he must have read the message incorrectly. After he examined the note, and after a puzzled Mater glanced at her virtual folder of sent messages, it was understood that he had inexplicably managed to read it exactly as the first message had been written- despite the fact that it had been deleted and had never in fact been sent.
A mother ought always to be careful about her flashes of thought. That magical mother-child connection is not a one-way system.
Posted by Phyllis Hunt McGowan at 6:43 AM