Thinking Out Loud, Volume DVI

I love the way Angie says hello when I call her on the phone. Of course, she knows it's me who's calling, and she answers like I'm someone she wants to talk to. There's almost a song in her hello. This is the season when I'm really busy working trade shows, and when I'm in my booth, I'm working in close proximity with the people in neighboring booths, and sometimes it's impossible NOT to hear their phone conversations. Let me compare two different conversations I recently heard while sitting in my booth. Naturally all I could hear was one side of each one, but judging by what I did hear, I think I can imagine what it sounded like on the other end. The first one I'll tell you about is the most recent from a lady next to me at the Biloxi Gift Show. The tone was almost like "Why are bothering me?" There was no smile, and here's what I heard: "Hello. What. I don't know. Well, you ask her, I don't have time. Okay, whatever. Bye." The other call I heard was was the previous week in Dallas. It was a woman in her late forties working with her grown daughter. When the phone rang, I heard her tell her daughter, "It's your dad." Then, with a smile on her face and in her voice, she didn't say hello, but started with, "Well, did you finally get your job completed?" During the rest of the conversation there was a lot of laughter, and it was evident those two people were enjoying their conversation. When she had hung up, I heard her tell her daughter, "He is so funny." In no way am I suggesting that the lady I told you about first didn't love her husband, but any joy she had in talking to him was kept well concealed. Angie is a strong, independent woman, and the things she is passionate about are not always the same as my passions, but one thing we do share is a passion for each other, with a fire that has been burning strongly for more than forty-three years. Too many times, however, I hear people use the phrase, "The fire has gone out," and we have to ask how and when did it happen. Well, there are a couple things I've learned about fires: We have to stoke them and continue fueling them to keep them burning, and if we put water on them, they will go out. One source of fuel is nice, pleasant conversation, while cold, harsh conversation is like putting water on the fire. I call home every night when I'm traveling, and I have no doubt that if I started using a less friendly tone of voice, she would reciprocate in kind, but what I really want is for her to look forward to me coming home. It reminds me of the country song by Mark Chesnutt that says, "It's too hot to fish, too hot for golf, and too cold at home." We can all handle low temperatures, but none of us want to go home to an icy atmosphere where the conversation is cold and terse. How does it get that way? How do we ever get to the point to where we talk to the ones we love in a less cordial tone than we would talk to a stranger? In my opinion, if my conversation with my kids is more friendly than it is with my wife, I'm starting down the wrong track. If I love my wife, I need to make sure it's evident in my tone of voice. At the time I'm writing this, I'm working out of town, but I'll be calling home tonight. I can't wait! Preston