Awww hell, Ann, I ain’t got it. I’ve got twelve kids to feed and a business to run. I can’t keep sending you money.

Do you need me to go to Western Union? my mom would ask. Yeah, my dad would say, let’s send the old girl something. Get her something to eat.

COLLECT CALL FROM AUNT ANN BY ELIZABETH CHRISTIE 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 43

Once every few weeks we’d receive a phone call from Aunt Ann in New York. She would usually ring in the evening after dinner. Whoever was nearest the phone would pick it up. The remote crackle of the operator always tipped us off to who was on the line.

“This is a collect call from—” the operator said. Without waiting to hear the “Ann” from the operator, we’d yell “MOM! DAD! It’s Ann.” Then we’d walk away regardless of whether our mom or dad heard us.

My dad would usually pick up the phone. “HELLO ANN,” he’d bellow. “How are you doing on this beeeutiful night.” He’d pause to listen.

“Awww hell, Ann,” he’d say. “I ain’t got it. I’ve got twelve kids to feed and a business to run. I can’t keep sending you money.” He’d pause to listen.

“Why don’t you ask Kathy,” he’d say. He…