While I have read this before, I read it again, because it is so soul touching. I find it a reminder of how just a few words can touch and make such a difference in someone's life. Thanks, Marilyn On Fri, Mar 11, 2011 at 7:37 PM, samuels <dwsbgs@centurytel.net> wrote: > > > > > Take the time to read this....it is a beautiful piece.....As I read it, I > could remember the Information Please option....don't know if in the BIG > city of Chicago it worked just this way.....but, it did bring back memories > of a phone hanging on the wall!!!!!!!! ....etc...... > > _____ > > > > > THE OLD PHONE ON THE WALL... > > > > 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 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 ill. 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." > > > > > > > > "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. > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > http://freepages.genealogy.rootsweb.com/~mbousman1/memory.htm > > > > ------------------------------- > To unsubscribe from the list, please send an email to > MEMORY-LANE-request@rootsweb.com with the word 'unsubscribe' without the > quotes in the subject and the body of the message -- "If you don't get outside every day, even for a minute, you have not appreciated what God has done. It makes you grateful for our surroundings, and it starts your day differently." Johnny Cash

  I really enjoyed this.  Annette. --- On Sat, 3/12/11, marilyn E B <marilyneb@gmail.com> wrote: From: marilyn E B <marilyneb@gmail.com> Subject: Re: [ML] FW: Fwd: FW: "Information Please!" To: dwsbgs@centurytel.net, memory-lane@rootsweb.com Date: Saturday, March 12, 2011, 12:24 PM While I have read this before, I read it again, because it is so soul touching. I find it a reminder of how just a few words can touch and make such a difference in someone's life. Thanks, Marilyn On Fri, Mar 11, 2011 at 7:37 PM, samuels <dwsbgs@centurytel.net> wrote: > > > > > Take the time to read this....it is a beautiful piece.....As I read it, I > could remember the Information Please option....don't know if in the BIG > city of Chicago it worked just this way.....but, it did bring back memories > of a phone hanging on the wall!!!!!!!!  ....etc...... > >  _____ > > > > > THE OLD PHONE ON THE WALL... > > > > 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 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 ill. 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." > > > > > > > > "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. > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > http://freepages.genealogy.rootsweb.com/~mbousman1/memory.htm > > > > ------------------------------- > To unsubscribe from the list, please send an email to > MEMORY-LANE-request@rootsweb.com with the word 'unsubscribe' without the > quotes in the subject and the body of the message -- "If you don't get outside every day, even for a minute, you have not appreciated what God has done. It makes you grateful for our surroundings, and it starts your day differently." Johnny Cash http://freepages.genealogy.rootsweb.com/~mbousman1/memory.htm ------------------------------- To unsubscribe from the list, please send an email to MEMORY-LANE-request@rootsweb.com with the word 'unsubscribe' without the quotes in the subject and the body of the message