The Family Plan

At age 23, I have moved out of my parents’ house. I have moved out the state and the region in which they live. I pay my own rent and I buy my own groceries. But lest they think that the cord has been completely cut, I keep one very close tie to them: The Family Plan. Three cell phone lines, one bill. Unlimited calling among family members. The phone calls abound. Need to know how exactly to defrost a freezer that has is one block of solid ice containing several frozen pizzas? Speed dial. Want to tell someone about the unusual weather? Speed dial. Need somebody to tell you that everything is going to be all right? You know what to do. And while I credit this technology with keeping my family as close as can be while we are scattered across three US Time Zones, it also allows people to overstep their boundaries no matter the physical distance between callers.

I myself am guilty as sin. My sister’s husband knows all too well what free minutes between sisters sounds like. Currently they are trying to enjoy the bliss of new parenthood but I can’t help myself from calling several time a day to find out how many times the baby has pooped in her diaper or vomited on my sister’s breasts.

My older brother is in graduate school at the University of Pennsylvania, suffering through the massive workload of the Ivy League. I simply can’t relate to that, but I do know that if I don’t call him to tell him about my last round of explosive diarrhea, he’ll just have to read about it on the Internet. And that’s not right.

My little brother is in the Navy, stationed in Mayport, Florida. I know every time I say, “in the Navy” someone busts out with the song and asks if he’s gay. Well, I don’t know if he’s gay or not but I do know that he got a medal for fighting the International war on terrorism. I don’t know how he was fighting terrorism by playing beach volleyball with his shipmates, but he’s got the medal to prove it. Anyway, I doubt there is any better buzzkill than your older sister calling to check up on you, so I make sure to do that several times a week.

My dad spends the winter in California, but I don’t let a 3-hour time difference come between us. Oh hell no. Poppa M*Inerny gets plenty of calls about such exciting topics as:
I want a puppy!
My head hurts.
I forgot what I was going to say.
Hey, what should I do with my life?
Oh my GOD I have no money!
I want a puppy.

My mom is finally enjoying her life after 30 years of wiping noses, packing lunches, and carpooling. Right now her life is a whirlwind of social engagements and “late work nights.” But why should her crazy schedule keep me from calling her while I’m on my way to work? Certainly a 1-hour time difference doesn’t make it inappropriate to call at 7am. They’re free minutes! Let’ use them!

A few weeks ago I thought long and hard about getting my own phone line. T-Mobile would make it worth my while with a pimp new phone and maybe even some text messaging. But my own phone line would mean paying $7 a month to “talk free” with my family. Yeah, you read that right. After several calls to Customer Service I eventually abandoned all ambitions of cellular independence, because if I don’t talk to my family several times a day, who will?