THE OLD TELEPHONE

  THE OLD     TELEPHONE 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 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.         Life is a  journey... NOT a guided tour.                   I know this has  been long but I trust you have found it worth reading. Each of us touch lives  in ways we may never know until we reach heaven.