Dona E. Bowens

You ever had this thought: I wonder if So-and-So is dead? If So-and-So were dead, how would I ever know?

I swear I’m going somewhere with this so, before you call the booby-hatch to come and swoop me up, consider this: Do you have a “one-connection” friend? That means you have no other friends in common and you’ve never really met their family. That’s a one-connection friend—the only connection being you to them. So if your one-connection friend started pushing up daisies, how would you know? Who would call you to say, “Well Greg bit the dust. You know how he loved oysters? He finally got a bad one. Anyway, how are you doing?”

I’m wondering if my friend Bobbi got a bad oyster or something because she hasn’t read my WhatsApp messages from two weeks ago. That’s not like her…at all. Read and not respond, sure, but to not read at all? Something stinks like a bad damn oyster. Being a one-connection friendship, there’s absolutely no one I can contact to say, “Hey, it’s Dona. Lissssennnn, have you heard from Bobbi? I think she’s de…what did you say? She’s on a vision quest? Well, good for her. You go, bitch!”

You’d think social media would tell me if she’s dead, but Bobbi’s one of those people on social media but she doesn’t do social media. To look at any of her pages, you’ll see she hasn’t posted squat since the Obama Administration—which doesn’t help me to know if she’s still sucking air or not.

I’m getting seriously worried and desperate. All this because of an unread WhatsApp message. Bobbi and I haven’t seen each other in the flesh since the last century. But friendships don’t need so much face-to-face nowadays with emails, Skype, Zoom, FB, Insta and damn it, WhatsApp. These stand-ins-for-actual-face-time have kept our friendship vibing since our Jersey days in the 90’s. But now Bobbi’s missing on the West Coast and I’m in the Midwest googling her government name and praying like hell that an obit doesn’t pop up.

People, maybe we all should arrogantly make a list of our one-connection friends. Give the list to a trusted family member and say, “In case of my demise, let these mofos know that I checked out. They’d want to know.”

That way, a mofo like me wouldn’t be wracking my brain trying to remember Bobbi’s sister’s name and then getting up the balls to write an email…maybe it’d be easier just to contact the local coroner.

GODDAMN IT, BOBBI! Just read the damn WhatsApp and let a Sista know you’re alive. Post on LinkedIn! Send a smoke signal! Call and hang up because you know how I hate phone chatting!

Until that WhatsApp message gets read…I’m going to imagine you on a vision quest, eating the best damn oysters ever…