>
>> ----- Original Message -----
> From: "Diane" <kd62180@yahoo.com>
> To: "Ang" <ang133@hotmail.com>; "Anita" <RedCarnation-22@webtv.net>;
"Chay"
> <chayanna@webtv.net>; "Jacque" <perk2@mercurylink.net>; "Kristen"
> <Krazy_boo82@yahoo.com>; "Lynne" <Klwads@yahoo.com>; "Marsha"
> <kahula58@hotmail.com>; "Michelle" <anutty61@hotmail.com>; "Pam"
> <dutchms@hotmail.com>; "Susan" <samaluco@webtv.net>; "Tammy"
> <tmurphy@citlink.net>; "Val" <Valsy38@hotmail.com>
> Sent: Friday, April 12, 2002 9:49 AM
> Subject: Information Please
>
> > Get yourselves a box of tissues!
> >
> > INFORMATION PLEASE
> > ====================
> >
> > When I was very young, my father had one of the first
> > telephones in our neighborhood.
> >
> > I remember well, the polished old case fastened to the
> > wall and the shiny receiver on the side of the box. I
> > was too little to reach the telephone, but used to
> > listen with fascination when my mother would talk to
> > it.
> >
> > Then I discovered that somewhere inside the wonderful
> > device lived an amazing person and 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-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 didn't seem to be any reason 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
> > 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 a hammer and it
> >
> > hurts."
> >
> > "Can you open your icebox?" she asked. I said I could.
> >
> > "Then chip off a 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 that my pet chipmunk, which 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 thing 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, "You must 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 somehow I never thought of trying the
> > tall, new shiny 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 or so on the phone
> > with my sister who lived there now.
> >
> > Then, without thinking about 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 be 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 asked if I could call her again when I came
> > back to visit mysister.
> >
> > "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 in the last few
> > years because she was sick.
> >
> > She died five weeks ago."
> >
> > Before I could hang up she said, "Wait a minute. Are
> > you Paul?"
> >
> > "Yes."
> >
> > "Well, Sally left a message for you. She wrote it down
> > in case you called when she was too sick to work.
> >
> > 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 make on others.
> >
> > Yahoo! Tax Center - online filing with TurboTax
> > http://taxes.yahoo.com/
> >
>