Please notice the phone and electrical lines. They do work by the way.

I worked for my father until I was twenty-eight. We had a family business while I was a child and I worked with him then as well. It was our family culture. Some dads go off to work for IBM or another large company.

My dad worked for himself from the time I was four years old. We were very close and spent thousands of hours together working and talking in the truck between jobs.

I called him every Sunday after my parents retired and moved to the high desert for a final life of calm and relaxation. They were the hardest working people I ever met.

One Sunday morning I called my dad as usual. I was married now and had a family and life of my own.

He answered the phone as usual and we talked about many important and unimportant things as family members do.

I suspected nothing unusual or out of the ordinary.

Then it happened five or so minutes into the conversation. I had asked, “How is mom’s leg?” he answered “It’s fine,” with a hint of confusion. I then asked how is your back?” and he answered, ” fine,” with a little less enthusiasm.

When I asked him how my brother Jerry was, He answered, “Who is this.” “It’s your son Chuck, dad.” He answered quickly, “I don’t have a son named Chuck or Jerry.”

I had been having a pleasant conversation with a complete stranger. I had dialed the wrong number.

Remember, when someone calls you by mistake, it isn’t always to bother you.

They might have just wanted to talk to their mother or dad.