Subject: FW: Phone On The Wall. just
beautifu
PHONE
ON THE WALL....
HELLO
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 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, "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 1 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 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 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.
Life
is a journey...
NOT a guided tour.
