Silent Bob

We’ve discussed, I think, my dad and how he doesn’t talk. If we haven’t, here’s the deal. The man does not talk.

It’s kind of his deal. He just doesn’t talk. We have conversations about specific events, we discuss the Beatle’s, the differences between John songs and Paul songs, and why mallowmars are the greatest cookie known to man. In general, however, he prefers the company of his own thoughts to the idle chit chat of others. I get this.

Except, he calls me. He calls me and doesn’t talk. He calls to say hi. Literally.

“Hi Ryan, it’s your old dad”
“ Hi Dad”
“………..”

Okay.

It never ceases to amaze me. What’s funny is that knowing full well my father is a mute I continue to call him. I proceed to have 5-10 minute monologue all the while thinking “I wish he would just say something.” Perhaps I’ll never learn.