The Old Phone

Discussion in 'Off-Topic Discussions' started by Dr. Gina, Mar 17, 2004.

Loading...
  1. Dr. Gina

    Dr. Gina New Member

    Something to think about....


    The Old Phone



    When I was quite young, my father had one of the first telephones in our neighbourhood. 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 neighbour. 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 parlour and dragged it to the landing. Climbing up, I unhooked the receiver in the parlour 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, "Paul 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 back home 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 dialled 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 guessyour 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 Paul?" "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?
     
  2. decimon

    decimon Well-Known Member

    <>

    Today, mom would have to worry about the impression she made on the judge after "Information Please" ratted her to the Social Services volk.
     
  3. oxpecker

    oxpecker New Member

    It's a very old story. According to discussion in comp.dcom.telecom, the story appeared in 1966 in Reader's Digest. But almost everything published by Reader's Digest at that time had previously appeared elsewhere, and so it's likely that the story is somewhat older than that.

    I think the story is most likely completely fake.
     
  4. Guest

    Guest Guest

    I look at this like I look at some Bible stories. It's not whether it's true or not, but what's the implication for us? How does it impact us and how can we live better lives?
     
  5. oxpecker

    oxpecker New Member

    Heh. Now you're sounding like Bishop Spong.
     
  6. BillDayson

    BillDayson New Member

    Perhaps.

    But at one time operators completed people's calls for them. In small towns, the operators knew everyone and everyone knew the operators.

    Even if this telephone story isn't literally true, something I have no way of knowing, I think that it communicates an obvious truth in an emotionally touching way.
     
    Last edited by a moderator: Mar 17, 2004
  7. wfready

    wfready New Member

    I thought it was a good story. I have to admit, however, that I thought there was going to be a "forward this to 10 other people or your computer will blow up" message at the end. ;)

    Bill
     
  8. P. Kristian Mose

    P. Kristian Mose New Member

    Come to think of it, mine *did* blow up yesterday.
     
  9. AV8R

    AV8R Active Member

    Sad, but true! :(
     
  10. wfready

    wfready New Member

    Tssk Tssk.. You should of forwarded that chain mail.. :rolleyes: :D
     
  11. Christopher Green

    Christopher Green New Member

    Jimmy Clifton wrote:
    Jimmy,

    Just a question at this point: What is the difference, in your mind, between a biblical narrative and a biblical parable?

    Both are very different as far as they literary markers.

    Narrative: "And the word of YHWH came to X," or "In the year of King X..."
    Parable: "There was a certain man..."

    I would assume that genre dictates entirely whether or not communicative action, in a particular instance, demands that its reference be really true or not. If we confuse genres, we respond inappropriately and irresponsibly.

    Chris
     

Share This Page