Bonnie’s Laurie Allen Tribute
A Dedication To The Old Telephone Operators
( For those who can remember)
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 neighbour. 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.
“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.
that, I called "Information Please" for everything. I asked her for
help with my geography, and she told me where
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?"
must have sensed my deep concern, for she said quietly, "
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.
this took place in a small town in the
When Iwas nine
years old, we moved across the country to
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
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 could call her again when I came back to visit my sister.
"Please do", she said. "Just ask for Sally."
months later I was back in
"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."
I could hang up she said, "Wait a minute, did you say your name was
"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.
Thank you Gwyneth From The Peter Doyle Website
for sending me this I think it is beautiful