I spoke to an old buddy of mine today for about an hour. My kids’ school had a fundraiser at Chick-Fil-A so I piled the kids in the car and off we went. My buddy just happened to be eating at that Chick-Fil-A because he was on his way somewhere else.
So he sat with us and we joked around and laughed for about an hour as my kids talked to their friends from school at other tables or on the playground. It was great.
So I just told my wife we saw him and we talked for over an hour. My wife asked me how his wife was. “I have no idea,” I said. “She wasn’t there.”
“You didn’t ask?”
“How are his kids?”
“Do you even know how many kids he has?”
“Is he still at the same job?” she asked.
“I don’t really know that,” I said. “It didn’t come up.”
This flustered my wife terribly. “You spoke to him for over an hour and you have no idea about his wife, his kids, or his job?”
I said, “Here’s what I know. He doesn’t think Colin Kaepernick is for real, he’s ticked that Mitt Romney lost, he’s upset his taxes are going up, he remembers every single lyric to the “BJ and the Bear” theme song, he’s thinking about going to the March for Life this year, he believes WKRP in Cincinnati is underrated, he plays the Irish drums now (not that I know what Irish drums are), he thinks his priest is a good guy but a bit of a hippie, and after watching six episodes of “Finding Bigfoot” in one night he’s pretty convinced that there’s no such thing as a Squatch but he thinks it’s great that those guys get to stay out all night.”
My wife became silent. She’s still silent and I’m using that window of silence to write this down. Pretty soon she’ll have more questions and I’ll have to stop writ…