“Uh huh” = Death

My kid’s bat mitzvah is Saturday. My mother called and asked if I had heard from her sister. My aunt is not well. She had a stroke a few years ago and suffers from chronic depression and rarely leaves the house. So I said, “No. But I didn’t expect to. She’s sick. I don’t take it personally.” My mother’s reply – a very measured, well-rehearsed, deliberately timed, “Uh huh.” That “uh huh” was not a nod of agreement. On the contrary. It was the statement of her rage that I didn’t join her in slicing up her sister. It was notification that she doesn’t approve of my perspective — that she doesn’t approve of me. Over the past 50 years, that incessant “uh huh” has done more harm, drawn more blood, and has been more disfiguring than any firearm. That “uh huh” is deadlier than cyanide.