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        <title>Being GLAD</title>
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    <outline type="rss"  title="&amp;lt;p&amp;gt;The Old Phone &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;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. &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;Then I discovered that somewhere inside the wonderful device lived an amazing person. Her name was &amp;amp;quot;Information Please&amp;amp;quot; and there was nothing she did not know. Information Please could supply anyone's number and the correct time. &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;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. &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;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. &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;amp;quot;Information, please&amp;amp;quot; I said into the mouthpiece just above my head. &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;A click or two and a small clear voice spoke into my ear. &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;amp;quot;Information.&amp;amp;quot; &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;amp;quot;I hurt my finger...&amp;amp;quot; I wailed into the phone, the tears came readily enough now that I had an audience. &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;amp;quot;Isn't your mother home?&amp;amp;quot; came the question. &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;amp;quot;Nobody's home but me,&amp;amp;quot; I blubbered. &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;amp;quot;Are you bleeding?&amp;amp;quot; the voice asked. &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;amp;quot;No,&amp;amp;quot; I replied. &amp;amp;quot;I hit my finger with the hammer and it hurts.&amp;amp;quot; &amp;lt;/p&amp;gt;&amp;lt;p&amp;gt;&amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;amp;quot;Can you open the icebox?&amp;amp;quot; she asked. &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;I said I could. &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;amp;quot;Then chip off a little bit of ice and hold it to your finger,&amp;amp;quot; &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;said the voice. &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;After that, I called &amp;amp;quot;Information Please&amp;amp;quot; for everything. I asked her for help with my geography, and she told me where Philadelphia was. She helped me with my math. &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;She told me my pet chipmunk that I had caught in the park just the day before, would eat fruit and nuts. &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;Then, there was the time Petey, our pet canary, died. I called, Information Please,&amp;amp;quot; 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, &amp;amp;quot;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?&amp;amp;quot; &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;She must have sensed my deep concern, for she said quietly, &amp;amp;quot; Wayne always remember that there are other worlds to sing in.&amp;amp;quot; &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;Somehow I felt better. &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;Another day I was on the telephone, &amp;amp;quot;Information Please.&amp;amp;quot; &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;amp;quot;Information,&amp;amp;quot; said in the now familiar voice. &amp;amp;quot;How do I spell fix?&amp;amp;quot; I asked. &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;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. &amp;amp;quot;Information Please&amp;amp;quot; 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. &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;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. &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;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, &amp;amp;quot;Information Please.&amp;amp;quot; &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;Miraculously, I heard the small, clear voice I knew so well. &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;amp;quot;Information.&amp;amp;quot; &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;I hadn't planned this, but I heard myself saying, &amp;amp;quot;Could you please tell me how to spell fix?&amp;amp;quot; &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;There was a long pause. Then came the soft spoken answer, &amp;amp;quot;I guess your finger must have healed by now.&amp;amp;quot; &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;I laughed, &amp;amp;quot;So it's really you,&amp;amp;quot; I said. &amp;amp;quot;I wonder if you have any idea how much you meant to me during that time?&amp;amp;quot; &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;I wonder,&amp;amp;quot; she said, &amp;amp;quot;if you know how much your call meant to me. &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;I never had any children and I used to look forward to your calls.&amp;amp;quot; &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;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. &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;amp;quot;Please do&amp;amp;quot;, she said &amp;amp;quot;Just ask for Sally.&amp;amp;quot; &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;Three months later I was back in Seattle . A different voice answered, &amp;amp;quot;Information.&amp;amp;quot; I asked for Sally. &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;amp;quot;Are you a friend?&amp;amp;quot; she said. &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;amp;quot;Yes, a very old friend,&amp;amp;quot; I answered. &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;amp;quot;I'm sorry to have to tell you this,&amp;amp;quot; she said. &amp;amp;quot;Sally had been working part-time the last few years because she was sick. She died five weeks ago.&amp;amp;quot; Before I could hang up she said, &amp;amp;quot;Wait a minute, did you say your name was Wayne ?&amp;amp;quot; &amp;amp;quot;Yes.&amp;amp;quot; I answered. &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;amp;quot;Well, Sally left a message for you. She wrote it down in case you called. &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;Let me read it to you.&amp;amp;quot; &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;The note said, &amp;amp;quot;Tell him there are other worlds to sing in. &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;He'll know what I mean.&amp;amp;quot; &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;I thanked her and hung up. I knew what Sally meant. &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;Never underestimate the impression you may make on others. &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;Whose life have you touched today? &amp;lt;/p&amp;gt;" text="&amp;lt;p&amp;gt;The Old Phone &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;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. &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;Then I discovered that somewhere inside the wonderful device lived an amazing person. Her name was &amp;amp;quot;Information Please&amp;amp;quot; and there was nothing she did not know. Information Please could supply anyone's number and the correct time. &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;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. &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;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. &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;amp;quot;Information, please&amp;amp;quot; I said into the mouthpiece just above my head. &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;A click or two and a small clear voice spoke into my ear. &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;amp;quot;Information.&amp;amp;quot; &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;amp;quot;I hurt my finger...&amp;amp;quot; I wailed into the phone, the tears came readily enough now that I had an audience. &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;amp;quot;Isn't your mother home?&amp;amp;quot; came the question. &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;amp;quot;Nobody's home but me,&amp;amp;quot; I blubbered. &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;amp;quot;Are you bleeding?&amp;amp;quot; the voice asked. &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;amp;quot;No,&amp;amp;quot; I replied. &amp;amp;quot;I hit my finger with the hammer and it hurts.&amp;amp;quot; &amp;lt;/p&amp;gt;&amp;lt;p&amp;gt;&amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;amp;quot;Can you open the icebox?&amp;amp;quot; she asked. &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;I said I could. &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;amp;quot;Then chip off a little bit of ice and hold it to your finger,&amp;amp;quot; &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;said the voice. &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;After that, I called &amp;amp;quot;Information Please&amp;amp;quot; for everything. I asked her for help with my geography, and she told me where Philadelphia was. She helped me with my math. &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;She told me my pet chipmunk that I had caught in the park just the day before, would eat fruit and nuts. &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;Then, there was the time Petey, our pet canary, died. I called, Information Please,&amp;amp;quot; 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, &amp;amp;quot;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?&amp;amp;quot; &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;She must have sensed my deep concern, for she said quietly, &amp;amp;quot; Wayne always remember that there are other worlds to sing in.&amp;amp;quot; &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;Somehow I felt better. &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;Another day I was on the telephone, &amp;amp;quot;Information Please.&amp;amp;quot; &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;amp;quot;Information,&amp;amp;quot; said in the now familiar voice. &amp;amp;quot;How do I spell fix?&amp;amp;quot; I asked. &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;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. &amp;amp;quot;Information Please&amp;amp;quot; 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. &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;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. &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;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, &amp;amp;quot;Information Please.&amp;amp;quot; &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;Miraculously, I heard the small, clear voice I knew so well. &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;amp;quot;Information.&amp;amp;quot; &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;I hadn't planned this, but I heard myself saying, &amp;amp;quot;Could you please tell me how to spell fix?&amp;amp;quot; &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;There was a long pause. Then came the soft spoken answer, &amp;amp;quot;I guess your finger must have healed by now.&amp;amp;quot; &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;I laughed, &amp;amp;quot;So it's really you,&amp;amp;quot; I said. &amp;amp;quot;I wonder if you have any idea how much you meant to me during that time?&amp;amp;quot; &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;I wonder,&amp;amp;quot; she said, &amp;amp;quot;if you know how much your call meant to me. &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;I never had any children and I used to look forward to your calls.&amp;amp;quot; &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;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. &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;amp;quot;Please do&amp;amp;quot;, she said &amp;amp;quot;Just ask for Sally.&amp;amp;quot; &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;Three months later I was back in Seattle . A different voice answered, &amp;amp;quot;Information.&amp;amp;quot; I asked for Sally. &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;amp;quot;Are you a friend?&amp;amp;quot; she said. &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;amp;quot;Yes, a very old friend,&amp;amp;quot; I answered. &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;amp;quot;I'm sorry to have to tell you this,&amp;amp;quot; she said. &amp;amp;quot;Sally had been working part-time the last few years because she was sick. She died five weeks ago.&amp;amp;quot; Before I could hang up she said, &amp;amp;quot;Wait a minute, did you say your name was Wayne ?&amp;amp;quot; &amp;amp;quot;Yes.&amp;amp;quot; I answered. &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;amp;quot;Well, Sally left a message for you. She wrote it down in case you called. &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;Let me read it to you.&amp;amp;quot; &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;The note said, &amp;amp;quot;Tell him there are other worlds to sing in. &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;He'll know what I mean.&amp;amp;quot; &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;I thanked her and hung up. I knew what Sally meant. &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;Never underestimate the impression you may make on others. &amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;Whose life have you touched today? &amp;lt;/p&amp;gt;" url="http://www.beingglad.com/the-old-phone-a7.html"/>
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