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 parlour 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.'
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 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.'
'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!
Author unknown