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Black Telephone

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nimnarb
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Black Telephone

#200370

Postby nimnarb » February 10th, 2019, 5:49 pm

friend just sent this to me and have to admit had me going a fair bit..........

The Black Telephone

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 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.

I loved this story and just had to pass it on.. I hope you find it
lovable too. Life is short; drink the good wine first.

GoSeigen
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Re: Black Telephone

#200479

Postby GoSeigen » February 11th, 2019, 10:02 am

How did I end up on Facebook???

GS

brightncheerful
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Re: Black Telephone

#200503

Postby brightncheerful » February 11th, 2019, 11:03 am

Why not pass this on?


I can think of lots of reasons…

PinkDalek
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Re: Black Telephone

#200535

Postby PinkDalek » February 11th, 2019, 12:57 pm

GoSeigen wrote:How did I end up on Facebook???

GS



You could have ended up at the curiously named Truthbook:

https://truthbook.com/stories/friendshi ... -telephone

There's plenty of "Heartwarming Friendship" stories there!

kiloran
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Re: Black Telephone

#200541

Postby kiloran » February 11th, 2019, 1:11 pm

I think this needs to be reported to social services. He was obviously a very small boy, unable to reach the phone without standing on a stool. His mother left him alone in the house with access to tools such as a hammer.

Absolutely shocking story. I hope his mum gets the book thrown at her.

--kiloran

bungeejumper
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Re: Black Telephone

#200542

Postby bungeejumper » February 11th, 2019, 1:18 pm

Hand me down my banjo, I feel a good ol' country and western song coming on. Then again, maybe it was last night's kebab?

BJ

Rhyd6
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Re: Black Telephone

#200592

Postby Rhyd6 » February 11th, 2019, 4:05 pm

My cousin married a very nice American girl but she does have the unfortunate habit of forwarding stories like this to my cousin and I. The only one I've found of any use is the one about the "Trunk Monkey". I'm sure you can find it if you really want to risk it :D

R6

scotia
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Re: Black Telephone

#200702

Postby scotia » February 11th, 2019, 10:42 pm

bungeejumper wrote:Hand me down my banjo, I feel a good ol' country and western song coming on?

I can't wait - can you insert a (questionable) music file?

AleisterCrowley
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Re: Black Telephone

#200709

Postby AleisterCrowley » February 11th, 2019, 11:08 pm


bungeejumper
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Re: Black Telephone

#200739

Postby bungeejumper » February 12th, 2019, 8:50 am

scotia wrote:
bungeejumper wrote:Hand me down my banjo, I feel a good ol' country and western song coming on?

I can't wait - can you insert a (questionable) music file?

I wouldn't do that to you, honestly. But here's one I made earlier.

It's all about how I grew up in a dirt-poor farming neighbourhood with ma momma and ma pop, and we never had no proper telephone because ma pop didn't earn much from his job flattening corn husks for the cow food factory. Matter of fact, we were so poor that you never saw more than one of us kids out at any one time ,because we only had one shoe and one pair of pants between us. But the good lord watched over us, and he took care of all our needs, and we talked to him regularly on the telephone.

Matter of fact, it was a very special telephone because it didn't need no wires. And no batteries either. It was an old can of glue from the back of the barn, and it was powered by prayer. And the good lord gave us his blessed counsel every morning, and we grew up in the faith, praise the lord, and once a week we had bread to eat. Yessir, it appeared miraculously in the bins on the street corner, every Monday. We never new why. And all we had to do was get the rats away from it.

Sadly, pop passed away six years last summer, and momma, she went to see Jesus as well, and I guess my life has improved in so many ways, and I have a fast car and a lovely wife and a beautiful apartment. But sometimes I hark back to the good old days and I wish I still had that good old can with me so that I could talk with the lord whenever I wanted. If only.....

But these days my daily bread is glue tin free. (Tish badoom tash.) There you go, your very own bee-spoke corny down-home Dolly Parton song. Take it away, boys, and don't bring it back. ;)

BJ

stevensfo
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Re: Black Telephone

#200760

Postby stevensfo » February 12th, 2019, 9:27 am

Reminds me of Billy Connolly's 'My Granny's a cripple in Nashville'.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t4ilEIypWbo


Steve

brightncheerful
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Re: Black Telephone

#200785

Postby brightncheerful » February 12th, 2019, 10:37 am

But here's one I am making up as i go along:

For several weeks, I had promised myself to stop buying two large packets of plain crisps on Wednesday evenings, both packets guzzled on the way home. I remember feeling delighted at finding crisps that I consider healthy: potato, rapeseed oil from their farm, rock salt. The crisps had been tasty to begin with and I'd enjoyed but what with adverse weather last year I guess the potatoes were not as tasty and the salt had become overpowering, Time to give up, to let go. Easier said than done, to kick the habit of the last couple of years, ever since a friend took me to the shop. Friend wasn't there for emotional support. Could I do it alone? Ignoring my intentions, I parked the car, went into the shop, ambled as usual to the end of the aisle. It was a relief i can tell you that there were no packets of plain crisps. There were crisps of different flavours but I had no difficulty in resisting because those crisps contained nasties. As I wandered back, I remembered that the shop also sells small packets of plain crisps. As I leant over to pick up a small packet. my heart leapt, I was in heaven. Could i resist the temptation and only buy 1 packet, not two.

At the checkout, a female customer in front of me was slowly piling more items in front of the till. Noticing that the female was wearing a uniform of the shop, I assumed a member of staff. Checkout chick (woman) and female were chatting, obvious they knew each other. Checkout woman gasped at the number of items of chocolate the female was buying. I resisted silently criticising another example of obesity in the making. I could talk. In readiness, I took out a handful of loose change from my jacket pocket. Once I'd bought the crisps I knew I'd feel lighter as the thought of buying faded but not a light as i felt that moment whilst redistributing the weight. To pass the time, I dropped a few coins on the floor and exercised bending down to pick them up one by one.

My turn to be served, checkout woman apologised for having kept me waiting for so long. I handed her the packet of crisps. How much? I said. Honestly, I didn't know. When you're an addict the price is the least of your concerns. Checkout woman scanned the packet but it wasn't recognised on the screen. I continue to wait patiently. She held up the packet, called to the female customer, member of staff, how much are these? Staff member didn't know so came over to inspect. Having sized up, I watched the staff member head toward the aisle of small packets then return. 75p. I gasped. The week before when I'd bought two small packets the same checkout woman found that the packet wouldn't scan so had charged me 65p each. That was the last straw. Finally something i could relate to got through. The large packets were £1.95 yet a small packet, a few crisps that wouldn't see me past the first set of traffic lights, cost 75p.

As I handed over the coins, aware that feeding my habit had not only taken a disproportionate amount of time but was costing me disproportionately I told the checkout woman that I'd promised to give up buying the crisps and maybe the Universe was telling me something.

--
Next week: give up buying carob and raisins.

scotia
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Re: Black Telephone

#200955

Postby scotia » February 12th, 2019, 10:29 pm

bungeejumper wrote:
scotia wrote:
bungeejumper wrote:Hand me down my banjo, I feel a good ol' country and western song coming on?

I can't wait - can you insert a (questionable) music file?

I wouldn't do that to you, honestly.

I'm disappointed. I was thinking of offering you an accompaniment on the mouth organ :lol:


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