Johan Filosoof
Thinking about life, consider the other side of the coin, sharing lessons of value.
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Tuesday, 5 December 2023
"Information Please" - "How do I spell fix?".
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 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 just
above my head.
A click or
two and a small clear voice spoke into my ear.
"Information."
"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, "James, 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.
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.
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
James?"
"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.
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?
(Not my story, but important enough to share!)