..................Subject : phone on the wall
Please take a minute to read this beautiful story.You'll be glad you did.
When I was a young boy,my father had one of the first telephones in our neighbourhood.........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 ''InformationPlease'' and there wa nothing she didnot 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 in the basment,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 me 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 readilly 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 a hammer and it hurts,''
''Can you open the ice box?'' 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 maths.
She told me my pet chipmunk that I had caught in the park justthe 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 musr have sensed my deep concern,for she said quietly,''Richard ,always remember that there are other worlds to sing in.''
Some how 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 thePacific Northwest,When Iwas nine years old ,we moved accross the country to Boston.I missed my friend very ,much.
''Information Please'' belonged in that old wooden box back home and I some how 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 half an hour or so between planes.I spent 15 minures 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 a small ,clear voice I knew so well.
''Information''
I hadn't planned this,but I heard myself say ,''Could you tell me how to spell fix?''
There was a long pause.Then came the 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 in 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 tell you this'' she said.''Sally had beem 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
Richard?''
''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
Life is a journey,NOT a guided tour
I loved this story and I hope you and your friends will to.
Richard Cornish
BREATHE EASY = FRIENDSHIP
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Stories from a Hospital Volunteer - Piano Time (Lavender Blue). 
A JOKE FOR K.O.T.C
