THE OLD PHONE
ON THE WALL
When I was a young boy, my
father had one of the first telephones in our neighborhood..
I remember the polished, old case fastened to the wall The
shiny receiver hung on the side of the box. I was too little to
reach the telephone, but used to listen with fascination when
my mother talked to it.
Then
I discovered that somewhere inside the wonderful device lived an
amazing person. Her name was "Information Please" and there was
nothing she did not know. Information Please could supply
anyone's number and the correct time.
My
personal experience with the genie-in-a-bottle came one day
while my mother was visiting a neighbor.. Amusing myself at the
tool bench in the basement, I whacked my finger with a
hammer, the pain was terrible, but there seemed no point
in crying because there was no one home to give
sympathy.
I
walked around the house sucking my throbbing finger, finally
arriving at the stairway. The telephone! Quickly, I ran for the
footstool in the parlor and dragged it to the landing.
Climbing up, I unhooked the receiver in the parlor and held it
to my ear.
"Information,
please" I said into the
mouthpiece just above my
head.
A
click or two and a small clear voice spoke into my
ear.
"Information."
"I
hurt my finger..." I wailed into the phone, the tears came
readily enough
now that I had an
audience.
"Isn't
your mother home?" came the question..
"Nobody's
home but me," I blubbered.
"Are
you bleeding?" the voice asked.
"No,"
I
replied. "I hit my finger with the hammer and it
hurts."
"Can
you open the icebox?" she asked.
I
said I could.
"Then
chip off a little bit of ice and hold it to your finger," said
the voice.
After
that, I called "Information Please" for everything... I asked
her for
help with my geography, and she told me
where Philadelphia was She helped me with my
math.
She
told me my pet chipmunk that I had caught in the park just the
day before, would eat fruit and nuts.
Then,
there was the time Petey, our pet canary, died. I
called,
Information
Please," and told her the sad story. She listened, and then said
things grown-ups say to soothe a child. But I was not consoled.
I asked her, "Why is it that birds should sing so
beautifully and bring joy to all families, only to end up as a
heap of feathers on the bottom of a cage?"
She
must have sensed my deep concern, for she said quietly, " Wayne, always remember that there are other worlds to sing
in."
Somehow
I felt better....
Another
day I was on the telephone, "Information
Please."
"Information,"
said in the now familiar voice. "How do I spell fix?"
I asked.
All
this took place in a small town in the Pacific Northwest . When
I was nine years old, we moved across the country to Boston. I
missed my friend very much.
"Information
Please" belonged in that old wooden box way back and I
somehow
never thought of trying the shiny new phone that sat on the table in
the hall. As I grew into my teens, the memories of those
childhood conversations never really left me..
Often,
in moments of doubt and perplexity I would recall the serene
sense of security I had then. I appreciated now how patient,
understanding, and kind she was to have spent her time on
a little boy.
A
few years later, on my way west to college, my plane put down in
Seattle. I had about a half-hour or so between planes. I spent
15 minutes or so on the phone with my sister, who lived
there now. Then without thinking what I was doing, I dialed my
hometown operator and said, "Information
Please."
Miraculously,
I heard the small,
clear voice I knew so well.
"Information."
I
hadn't planned this, but I heard myself saying,
"Could you please tell me how to spell
fix?"
There
was a long pause. Then came the soft
spoken answer, "I guess
your finger must
have healed by now.."
I
laughed, "So it's really you," I said.
"I wonder if you have
any idea how
much you meant to me during that
time?"
I
wonder," she said, "if you know how much
your call meant to
me.
I
never had any children and I used to look
forward to your
calls."
I
told her how often I had thought of her over the
years and I
asked if I could call her again when
I came back to visit
my sister.
"Please do", she said. "Just ask for Sally.
Three
months later I was back in Seattle ..
A different
voice answered,
"Information." I
asked for Sally..
"Are
you a friend?" she said.
"Yes,
a very old friend," I answered.
"I'm
sorry to have to tell you this", She said.
"Sally had been working part time the last few
years because she was sick. She died five weeks
ago."
Before
I could hang up, she said,
"Wait a
minute, did you say your name was Wayne ?"
"Yes." I
answered.
"Well,
Sally left a message for you.
She wrote it
down in case you called.
Let me read
it to you.."
The
note said,
"Tell him there are other worlds to
sing in.
He'll know what I
mean."
I
thanked her and hung up. I knew what Sally
meant.
Never
underestimate the impression you may make on
others..
Whose
life have you touched today?
Lifting
you on eagle's wings.
May you find the joy
and peace you long for..
Life
is a journey... NOT a guided
tour.
I loved this story and just
had to pass it on.
I hope you enjoy it
too.
--
.
