"Information Please" ---- a
story
When I was quite young, my father had one of the first
telephones in our neighborhood. I remember well 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 used to talk to it.
Then I discovered that somewhere inside the wonderful device
lived an amazing person - her namewas "Information
Please" and there was nothing she did not know.
"Information Please" could supply anybody's number and
the correct time. My first personal experience with this
genie-in-the-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 didn't
seem to be any reason in crying because therewas no one home to
give sympathy. I walked around the house sucking mythrobbing
finger, finally arriving at the stairway. The telephone! Quickly,
I ran for the foot stool 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 your icebox?" she asked. I
said I could. "Then chip off a little piece 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,
out pet canary died. I called "Information please" and
told her the sad story. She listened, then said the usual things
grown ups say to soothe a child. But I was unconsoled. 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." Somehow I felt better.
Another day I was on the telephone. "Information
Please." "Information," said the now familiar
voice. "How do you 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 tall, 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 half-an-hour or so between planes. I
spent 15minutes 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 tellme 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 still 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 Paul?" "Yes." "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 I still say there
areother 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. Love
and Light to you and may you sing in other worlds when it is
time!
Author Unknown
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