PAT MCDERMOTT
When it comes to keeping in touch with family in other time zones, it’s always better late than never.
According to the World Clock on my phone, New York City is 16 hours behind Sydney. So, Sydney is 16 hours ahead of New York City. Ruff Red, who lives in NYC, has no time for time.
It’s not his fault. It’s a McDermott thing. In Lismore, NSW, where the MOTH (The Man of the House) grew up, the whole family is still known as the “late McDermotts”. No movie, church service, football game, school prize giving or wedding (including my own!) began until all nine McDermotts had arrived and been seated. The family motto is: “We are many but we are late”.
Now that Ruff Red lives in the “city that never sleeps”, he doesn’t sleep either. He works long hours and pays no attention to what time it is, calling us in the middle of the night or by “dawn’s early light”. The phone rings when we’re in mid-shower, mid-snore, or fumbling with a face mask in the supermarket. But when we hear his cheerful voice across 16,200km of sea and sky, all is forgiven.
His emails arrive at odd times, too. I read them even at 3am. It’s a bad habit that began years ago when, one by one, all five kids set off to explore the world. They promised to keep in touch via email and text messages. Phone calls were for emergencies!
Patrick rang one night from Edinburgh, where it was raining Scottish “cats and dogs”. He needed our credit card details to pay for a taxi. “Don’t you have the cash?” growled the MOTH, flicking through his wallet in the dark. “Not enough to get a cab from Edinburgh to London,” Patrick said. The call ended suddenly. “Did you give him the number?” I asked drowsily.
“I told him the walk would do him good.”
Another year and another midnight call – this time from Flynn on the Isle of Oban in Scotland. I heard roaring wind and squawking seagulls in the background. “Sorry to wake you, but it’s an emergency!” she shrieked over the gale. “I need a bathrobe. There’s a nice one in Harrods!”
“There is no such thing as a ‘bathrobe’ emergency,” the MOTH complained as, once again, he flicked though his wallet. “And what’s wrong with ‘Marks & Sparks’?”
Ruff Red spent several months driving across America in a battered yellow school bus with his mates. Occasionally he’d send photos.
I spotted a lovely girl in one. I waited a discreet 10 minutes before emailing. The response was short and to the point.“Her name is Rebecca. She’s very nice. Yes, you’ll meet her soon. No, I don’t know what her parents do!”
He and Rebecca visit as often as they can. This year, of course, things are different. Two weeks isolating in a nice hotel … When I was a young mum with five kids, it would have sounded like ‘heaven on a stick’!
But it’s tough, so I made a list and packed a box:
A giant jigsaw puzzle and chess set. Headache tablets, Band-Aids, face masks, tissues, toothpaste, toothbrushes, hand sanitiser, shampoo and conditioner. Biscuits, chocolate, fruit. Magazines including (of course) The Australian Women’s Weekly.
Ruff Red had a list of his own:
Two yoga mats, two yoga blocks, foam roller, air purifier, hand weights, forks, soup spoons, two coffee mugs, a small blender, vegetable peeler, bowls, dinner plates, chopping board, coffee pot, good coffee (not instant!). Two good-looking mangoes.
“Sounds like an ‘iso’ dinner party,” muttered the MOTH.
“He is a chef,” I shrugged.
“I know, but are we invited?”AWW