"Just talk to me." That’s what I used to say when I telephoned my mother. I was in my early twenties, living alone for the first time and feeling completely overwhelmed by life, and from time to time I’d call her up, crying, and I’d say, “please just talk to me.”And she would. She chattered on about the repairs to the roof that my father was finally getting around to, or the neighbor who’d thrown a loud party last Saturday night, or the book she&rsqu...