the call

It's not that the holiday phone call is exactly a relic, here in these days of unlimited long distance, free nights and weekends, but you notice that that AT&T, whatever AT&T is these days, no longer advertises a family gathered 'round a phone waiting for it to ring. It's an outdated image now that everyone has her own phone in her own pocket to constantly contact whomever she chooses. But even if the ability to make a connection may no longer be a novelty, or a selling point for the service, to get an unexpected call is still is a holiday bonus, or at least it is to me.

Holidays are built on obligation, a thought that's trite because it's true. Too many gifts must be purchased, too many visits must be made. If we only did what we wanted to do, we'd be a lot less busy. Being terrible, or perhaps just young, I spent much of my life fervently wishing that my grandmother had been born on any day other than January 1, such a burden it seemed to drag myself out of bed and to her birthday celebration. A few years back, we buried her on New Year's Day: the date at least seemed fitting. I do start each year with thoughts of her, but come Tuesday I can't say I'll miss going to her party. I'm sure she would not approve of her lackadaisical granddaughter, but if she were there, I would be, too. Just slightly less than enthusiastically.

It's good to do what we should, mostly worth it in the end, but how much sweeter than the fruits of obligation are the joys that come from, "I didn't have to, but I did." Back on Christmas morning, my phone rang earlier than it ever does without an in-law on the line, and it was a boy calling because he chose to, not because anyone made him, and I'd call that a gift.

"Ms. P?"

"Rafael?"

"It's Fernando!"

"Oh! Fernando! Hello!" Those brothers don't even sound so much alike, maybe just a little. It's just that the older had always been the one to call, given that the younger had still been in my class until June. Not unlike some relatives, they mostly call with a want or a need--I knew without contact that they weren't in school this semester: I'd seen no papers to proofread--but not unlike some relatives, this holiday call was to catch up. Feliz Navidad, Merry Christmas, how are you, how's the family, did you know that we moved? have you heard from Gustavo? Did you know Oscar's girlfriend is only 14? I'll talk to him about that. Please do.

I heard about the amateur boxing, was asked for an opinion and promised a visit. It was like a call I've never gotten from the nephew I never had, although I have five. Not to slight those kids, they're mostly just young and local, with no reason to call Aunt Allison, but if they grow up to be anything like Rafael and Fernando, I'll be thrilled. In a way, they're the best boys I know.

Oh, they're not perfect, these brothers with tempers and a taste for tequila. They're regular guys, not saints. They work hard and save more money than I ever have, but that doesn't really set them apart. Instead I admire their attitude and wonder at its origin. While they understand the world, they refuse to let it discourage them. Is it in the genes, this immunity to cynicism and doubt, or did their parents impart something--something I need--before they sent them North to an uncle with a wish and a prayer for a better life? They were so young. And are still young now, 19 and maybe 21 or 22. And yet they consistently do the right or responsible thing, perhaps not having the luxury of playing around.

They live independently in a mobile home they've purchased, drive cars they own outright, answer to no one but their bosses day-to-day. They are a model of responsible youth when they could be out doing who knows what, thousands of miles from home, but they are better than that, those boys, determined to succeed in a world actively working against them. I wonder, under the same circumstances, if I'd do half as well. That's why I'm just glad to have a part, whatever my current role is: former teacher, helpful friend. And that's why it means something to me that when Fernando went to midnight mass and ran into someone who had my phone number, he somehow went home with it and called me early the next morning, just to say hello. He didn't have to, but he did.