what is wrong with the rest of the world?

My sister Barbara Jean recently learned how to do text messaging. I receive several from her each day. I also talk to her at least twice a day. She always sends me a "good night, i luv u" message. B. Jean, as I call her, lives about 1200 miles away in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan where we grew up. She is 5 years older than me and we are very close. I cannot imagine my life without her. She cannot comprehend families who don't talk to or seem to care about each other. A few weeks ago when I spoke to her, she related a conversation she had with her dying neighbor's sister. The sister commented "maybe it would be better if she would just die while we are here". Then she went on to discuss her own aches and pains and how she needed to get back home and it would be better to not have to come back for a funeral. Barb wondered how this woman could talk about her own sister this way. I could tell that she was still puzzling over this when I received a text message that read,

"why do we love each other so much what is wrong with the rest of the world".

I know why I love her. She braves U.P. snowstorms to go to where my grandmother's old house once stood to feed feral cats and has done this for several years. She does nice things for people she hasn't even met - like mailing my aging neighbors home made bread and jam and buying Christmas gifts for elderly folks who might not get any otherwise. She even buys presents for the Wal Mart greeter. She is her own person and she makes simple things very enjoyable - She creates great traditions. For example, when I visit her we go to the small cemetery in our little town and sit by my grandparent's graves. We have a bottle of beer in honor of grandpa and a cup of coffee with grandma. We drink crabby juice (whiskey and Pepsi) and plan songs for our own funerals. I don't know anyone as kind or so comfortable with themselves. She keeps our childhood alive - both the good and the bad (most of it was good) and we have fun remembering the good old days growing up in a small town when the world was a better place and people sat on porches and visited each other for coffee without calling first.

Text messaging has opened a whole new way of communicating for B. Jean. She sends me little snippets that "make my laughs come in bunches" as my dad would say.

Here's a few unedited samples:

"do you remember tough meat"
"Had to get upand move cars grader coming need u to shovel off cars
"will take sno pics tomorrow come for ham dinner"
"come play in the snow we will make angels and act like kids"
"pastys biscuit cds and toys for jack r on the way"
"Wisc man killed last nite now a sledhog went through the ice on lk gogebic just heard ambulance call"
"ma called me all excited casue the bulls and jazz are on shes turning into a sports nut"
"do you remember bomba the jungle boy I loved to read
"How abo ut spin and marty"
How about trixie belden"

My dad died in August. Her friend that I mentioned earlier in this post died last week. Her name was Jeanette. Just after she died, I got a text message saying:

I wonder if dad was one of the greeters for jeanette

I bet he was. And I don't know what is wrong with the rest of the world, but my sister is one thing that is right.