(no subject)

[Guest guest]

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 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. So don't miss the ride and have a

great time going around you don't get a second shot at it.

I loved this story and just had to pass it on. I hope you enjoy it and get a

blessing from it just as I did

Wrinkles should merely indicate where smiles have been