I've been traveling this week. I spent a few days in North Carolina visiting my three sisters. The reason for the trip was my brother-in-law's funeral, so it wasn't really a time for fun. But anytime I can see all my sisters at one time is a good time. It is also overwhelming. So today I am putting away laundry and not doing much else.

I feel very close to my sisters even though I don't get to see them often. The three of them were born within a five-year period and have always been a part of their own little world. I am several years older. I moved away and got married when Shawna (the youngest) was only three. They have always been "the girls". I've always been the older, normal sister.

 Everyone in my family has a story. There is always something happening. Now one of them is in the absolute unorganized throes of moving and is more scattered than anyone should ever have to be. One has just published a book. (Not me, but I am now working on mine more seriously than ever.) One has just lost the love of her life after a long and terrible illness.  And I am more normal than I even was before. I don't mind being normal, as long as I can also be funny, creative, and whimsical.

As sisters do, we are always giving each other advice. And not often listening to it. As the oldest, I also think I am the wisest. Not always true, of course. They have a lot more life experience then I do. And they have lived and loved in lots more places. I'm the one who has barely moved outside of my original neighborhood. They have all lived on the east coast for many years, and in many different circumstances and places.

Here is my advice. 1. If you are scattered and totally discombobulated, make a list. Concentrate on three things only. Then move on. Do not try to do everything that is in your head at the same time. 2. If there is a secret, make sure that only one person knows it, or it won't be a secret anymore. These things always come out at funerals. Or at the receptions. I still remember the time that we all found out at a funeral dinner that a long-time married aunt and uncle were first cousins.

After the funeral, the rest of the trip was very quiet. No one really wanted to do the usual shopping and visiting we usually fill our time with. We actually binge watched tv, and it was just what everyone needed. We chose a show called "Bad Sisters". It is quite a dark comedy drama, and there have only been two seasons. Two of us made it through all eighteen episodes. It is set in Ireland and involves five sisters who are unsuccessfully trying to commit a terrible crime. Anyone with sisters will identify with parts of it. Hopefully, not the murder parts.

The Kindness of Strangers

 I notice a lot of things when watching British mystery tv. Of course everybody drinks a lot of tea. And when the detective interviews someone about a suspect or a victim over a cuppa, the person will almost always say, "I really don't know anything about it. He kept himself to himself." We don't hear that here in the United States, because most people love to talk, especially about themselves and their history. 

I don't usually think of myself as someone who is an oversharer. At least not in person. When it comes to writing, I am much more likely to spill the tea. Does anyone else wonder what that means? Well, I looked it up. I thought it was a new saying, but it has actually been a bit of American slang since the 1980's. It means to tell the truth about something scandalous, dramatic or juicy.

One thing I notice a lot is that people tend to think that no one overhears when they are talking on a cellphone. I am always surprised at the ones who will talk loudly on speakerphone when they are out shopping. Just the other day I felt like I was following a woman at Target because I could hear her conversation from several aisles away. She was telling a friend very intimate details about her divorce and custody hearing and talked the entire time she was in the store.

A few days later I was in the pharmacy, when a man looking at greeting cards shared family stories with a stranger who was also looking at cards. They weren't good stories, and I'm surprised he was actually buying cards for people he disliked so much. Not to be out done, she also had her share of horror stories. Once again, they were very loud, and I could easily hear them from several aisles away.

Now if you are starting to get the idea that I am just a creepy eavesdropper sort of person, I'm really not. Anyway, not most of the time. For the sake of clarity, I will admit that during the time when I was alone and lonely I used to deliberately listen to old married couples in restaurants. More than once I fought off the urge to go to their tables and tell them to be nicer to each other.

There are also people who want to share happy times. There is a cashier I see in another store who tells everyone the story of how his parents met. He enjoys it every time he repeats it, and I try to take the time to listen.

Sometimes it is easier to share things with strangers than with those we know. When I was going through sadness and misery, I remember more than one occasion when I cried with women who were there for me in the very worst moments, but I never saw them again. I will always think of them as my angels and remember the kindness they gave me when I desperately needed it.

It is a good thing to share connections and experiences with other people. Let's just try not to do it loudly and publicly.