Never
Underestimate the Impression
You May Make on Others
Information Please
When I was quite young, my father had one of the first telephones
in our neighbourhood. I remember well 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 used to talk
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 anybody's number and the
correct time My first
personal experience with this genie-in-the-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 didn't seem to be any reason 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 parlour and dragged it to the landing. Climbing
up, I unhooked the receiver in the parlour 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?"
"No," I replied. "I hit my finger with the hammer and it
hurts." "Can you open your icebox?" she asked. I said I could.
"Then chip off a little 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 my pet chipmunk that I had caught in the park just
the day before would eat fruits 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 things grown-ups say to soothe a child. But I was unconsoled. 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, "Paul, 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 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 9 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 tall, 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 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 what
I was doing, I dialled 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 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 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 Paul?"
"Yes." "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 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 may make on others".
Author Unknown ---
" Never underestimate the impression you may make on others".
Author Unknown ---
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