Last night the phone rang while my family was in the middle of dinner. It was my Uncle Larry-my mom's brother-calling from Indianapolis. My mother listened to Uncle Larry's words, and at first she looked alarmed. Gradually, her face relaxed, and she began to tap her
foot impatiently.
Finally, she said, "Thanks for telling me about the storm warning. Larry, but my soup is getting cold. Can I call you back in half an hour?"
She hung up and sighed, "I love my brother, but he always thinks that the sky is falling."