Judy Hamilton
7th February 2008, 02:51 PM (14:51)
THE OLD PHONE --(received in my e-mail today)
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,
'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
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 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?
Why not pass this on? I just did....
Lifting you on eagle's wings.
May you find the joy and
peace you long for.
I loved this story and just had to pass it on. I hope
you enjoy it and
get a blessing from it just as I did
and thanks to a special person for sharing this with me today
Judy
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,
'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
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 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?
Why not pass this on? I just did....
Lifting you on eagle's wings.
May you find the joy and
peace you long for.
I loved this story and just had to pass it on. I hope
you enjoy it and
get a blessing from it just as I did
and thanks to a special person for sharing this with me today
Judy