Information Please

[Guest guest]

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 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 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 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 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, our 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 inconsolable. 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 15

minutes 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 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 asked.

 

" Yes, a very old friend, " I answered.

 

" I'm sorry to have to tell you this, " she said. " Sally has 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, " I replied.

 

" 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 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?

 

- Heart2Heart Team

 

Ram Chugani

Kobe, Japan

rgcjp