Expose! Lonnie Smith

Lately when you call, mom and dad get on separate phones and listen in a Clarissa-Explains-It-All kind of way. Dad always sits on the bed and mom sits in the living room as we hear snippets of your goings-on. The phone eventually gets passed down to whatever siblings are around. They always ask, "Do you want to talk to Lonnie?" as though anyone would say no and risk hazarding explanation.

However, I will be honest. It's a time somewhat dreaded by your younger sisters for you, my brother, have taken awkward phone etiquette to the next level. I admit, phone conversations are my weakest point in a battery of lacking social skills, but you have eclipsed me.

Now, I know how phone conversations go with the two of us. You have a tendency to ask broad questions and seem to have very little to say yourself, thereby placing the conversational buden on me. But the problem is, that's my style too, and we all know that nothing good can come of mixing two clumsy phone-talkers. I go out of my way to avoid this by saying anything and everything that comes to mind, no matter how glib, annoying, and/or ridiculous.

Not long ago you called and had the perfunctory conversation with mom and dad. Soon came the dreaded "pass around." You talked to Josey who, relieved to be through with her duty, thrust the phone in my hand and commanded, "Talk!"

The proclimation of doom echoed in my ears as your painfully open-ended greeting of "What's up?" landed thickly on my brain. I summonded my powers of chat and let the verbal diarrhea begin. However, you had no reaction. At all. I finally had to ask, "Are you even listening?" I have never had to say that before. I was working so hard to cover up how angular our conversations are and you weren't even paying attention - like a sad sitcom husband. At that moment I felt like Lisa Simpson trying to explain some profound truth, and you were Homer, distracted by a beer and a donut.

After you admitted you were distracted and I gave up, you ended the conversation with a disquieting, "I'll see you soon," even though we all know I won't see you for at least a year and a half.

I don't actually care. It was funny. But next time don't make me try so hard.