The Calm One? Not so much.

I am The Calm One. I’m the one family seeks out for advice because I am non-nonsense and get-to-the-point. I am the Executor of my father’s estate because he knows I am detailed oriented and will handle it well. But if all this is true, please to explain what happened this weekend.

A little side story: when Carlos worked in Columbia, he would call as he was leaving to tell me he was on his way home. It’s about a 45 minute to an hour drive, so I’d plan on when he’d be home. But, when that time passed, and he still wasn’t home, my mind ran, not walked, into dead-in-a-ditch territory. And stayed there until Carlos walked into the house and said he’d stopped to get gas, or remembered something to get from the market.

The Calm One? Perhaps not.

We were home on Saturday, recovering from Prick #2, feeling really tired and a little sore in the arm. Carlos was napping and I was reading in the living room. The phone rang—we have a land line, don’t judge—and, as is my wont, I chose not to answer it. I heard the machine pick up—again, don’t judge me—and what sounded like a recorded message; I thought nothing of it and went back to my book.

But the message gnawed at me, and so I went into the office and pressed play; it still sounded like some recorded message and was something about a health emergency for Robert Slatten. Me? I figured it was nonsense, and erased it; I thought maybe it was a check-up call about our second dose, but then …

My father and I have the same name. Roberg Slatten. Medical emergency. What the … ? I checked the time. Two o’clock here, so 11AM at Dad’s and, if his schedule hadn’t changed, he was at the Oregon Coast Aquarium where he volunteers one day a week. I called his cell phone, but my dad doesn’t bring it into the aquarium. I called his house; no answer.

So, I called again and again. And I worried that the “medical emergency” caller would try back since they didn’t get an answer. I checked the time: 4PM, 1PM Dad’s time. He would be leaving the aquarium, so I tried the cell phone; no answer. I called the house; no answer. My mind went there: Dad’s dead and I didn’t pick up the phone.

I called the house again. I thought about calling the aquarium to see if he’d volunteered that day, but I couldn’t get through. 5PM here. He’d surely be home by 2PM. He has to let the dog out. I called the house; no answer. I looked up the phone number for the local police, you know, just in case. I found the number for the local hospital, too. 6PM; I tried the house and the cell phone; I checked his Facebook page to see when he’d last posted. I called again.

And, since I was losing my mind, and certain that my father was dead, I opted to keep Carlos out of the loop, because, while I knew my father was dead, I had no proof. We ate dinner; I called again; 6PM, no answer.

That was it. It was after seven, and I hadn’t heard a thing. I was calling the police in his town, or in the neighboring town and would have them bust down the door to his home. I reached for the phone as it started to ring. The Caller ID was Dad’s number. My mind said, “It’s your brother, you didn’t answer that call earlier and they called him and he drove up to Oregon and found Dad dead and is now calling from Dad’s house to give you the news.”

I picked up the phone; it was my dad.

“You called me? [Extra long pause pause] About fifty times?”

I don’t think it was fifty; it couldn’t have been more than forty.

The Calm One then had a nice chat with my dad who stayed longer at the aquarium because it was a holiday weekend and they had a much larger crowd than anticipated. After that I went to the living room and told Carlos that I was insane. He smiled and said to tell him something he didn’t know.

How as your weekend?