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The Black Telephone
Those old enough to remember when the phone was wired to the wall, usually in the kitchen, can relate to this story. I loved this read.
When I was a young boy, 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 I listened fascinatedly when my mother talked to it.☎️
Then I discovered that somewhere inside the excellent device lived an amazing person. ☎️ Her name was “Information Please”, and there was nothing she did not know. Information Please could you supply anyone’s number and the correct time.☎️
My 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 above my head.
With 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 whined.☎️
“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 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 should birds 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 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, 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 never thought of trying the shiny new phone 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 was put down in Seattle.☎️ I had about a half-hour or so between planes. I spent 15 minutes on the phone with my sister, who lives there now.☎️ Then without thinking about 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 guess your finger must have healed by now.”☎️
I laughed, “So it’s you,” I said. ☎️”Do you know how much you meant to me during that time?”☎️
“I wonder,” she said, “if you know how much your calls 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 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 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 worked 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?☎️