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> > Subject: Fw: Fw: The old phone. Must read
> Date: Sun, 24 Aug 2008 19:35:39 +1000
>
>
> THE OLD PHONE
>
> When I was quite young, 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,
> '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 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 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!
> You just
> never know whose life have you touched today?
>
>
> Why not pass this on? I just did...
>
>
> 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.
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>