I called my brother in Ohio this weekend.
"What's it been, six years?" he asked.
"Yeah. When Dad died. We haven't had a third parent croak, so that seems about right."
At issue was our mentally ill sister, who is bottoming out. I thought it was time for some coordination of our separate efforts to help her. Still, it took several weeks of bracing for me to place this call.
"What's the over/under on the first time he mentions Jesus?" I asked Heather. "And what is it for his first racist remark? I say inside of 10 minutes for both. You pay me triple if he gets both things in the same sentence."
"He won't really say that stuff, will he? He hasn't spoken to you in six years!"
"I'll put you down for over, then."
For the record, "May God bless you and keep you" is on his answering machine greeting, which I had to endure while he screened the call. And the first racist comment came in at a blazing four minutes, seventeen seconds.
You will never go broke betting against my family.