It’s 5:26 am and the phone rings, awakening my wife and I from much needed sleep. It’s a courtesy call. I tell the invisible canvasser with the heavy Indian accent what time it is and tell them to remove my number from their list. I hang up and return to my attempt at slumber. At 5:46 the phone rings again. Another Indian wanting to restructure my mortgage. Now I’m angry, and wide awake. I hurry to write down the number so I can call them back and give them, not a piece, but all of my tormented mind. I get the number and after I have dispatched the caller, attempt to call the number. All circuits are busy. I go back to bed and again the phone rings. It’s 6:05 am. Sleep is gone so I get up, go to my office where I sit and begin to read from Things That Matter (Charles Krauthammer) and I read until the urge for sleep returns so I lay down on the soft inviting mini couch that sits in my office. No sooner do I fade off to sleep than the phone rings again. Don’t they have clocks in India. It’s someone from _____From America wanting to speak to Kathryn Tait The heavy accent was unintelligible. Now I want to shoot someone and that’s when I start writing this blog.
This experience has driven me to the conclusion that the major reason we are a nation of psychotics, especially politicians, is that we have no privacy. Our lives are no longer our own. Someone else always wants something from us and the only we can get away from it is to hike into the middle of the wilderness, if we can find wilderness, take Krauthammer and leave the phone at home.