Information - a forwarded beautiful message

I wish I could put an author's name on this piece as it is one of the most beautiful messages I've ever been forwarded.

I had to send this on, after I used up my Kleenex.

Love Carol


When I was a young boy, 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 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.
 
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 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..
 
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 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 must have sensed my deep concern, for she said quietly, " Wayne , 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 in the now familiar voice. "How do I 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 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 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, "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 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 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 Wayne ?" "
  
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..
 
Whose life have you touched today?
Why not pass this on? I just did....
 
 Lifting you on eagle's wings.
 May you find the joy and peace you long for
 Life is a journey... NOT a guided tour.

  
 I loved this story and just had to pass it on.
 

Sorry, I am not in the mood for this. I lost three really good friends this year and don't need to add to my grief.

I won't cry over folks I don't know.
Just now I could use some joy.

Carol, so could you. Find something funny--you need to laugh not cry.

Turn off the gloom and turn on the fun.
If an email makes you start to cry--stop reading it and hit delete.
You have enough trouble.

Alice,

I just finished Skyping with Jaycie. We had a good visit. Their only problem was that she recognized me, and kept pushing her walker up to the computer so she could see me better. She didn't like it when her parents kept pulling her back. She wanted to talk to her Grannie Annie.

Her Grandfather Schraer was there. He is even driving now; he is recovering so well. Her mom and dad said she really liked her Calvin Klein jeans and quilted jacket from her Grannie, and she liked the box they came in even better.

Ann

Ann,


I am so happy for you.

Alice,

I am sorry for making you sad. Things make me cry. Things make me laugh. Life is like that.

We lose people in our lives but others come as little people and bring us joy.

As Dick said, we give up independence but we gain beautiful understanding of what is really important.

This week I wore my pink rocket dog shoes to my treatment and truly livened up the place. Yesterday I took my books which were met with gratitude. The young techs have been telling me about their lives, one recently having gotten married and the other glad he gave up his wild life of being patched up from motorcycle accidents.

My son has gotten to Wisconsin from Austin Texas, and my daughter is in Dallas waiting for her flight to Wisconsin.

It is important to me right now to know there are new places to sing.

I might live for years. I hope.

I am sorry to make you sad. But always remember those people are singing in other places. What gives me courage is that I was with God before I was born and will be with Him again.

Joy has become so joyful. I spend 90% my day saying how beautiful our tree looks, how it is a beautiful wonderland out there, how good my husband's dinners are, how much I love everyone.

The other ten percent knows the reality, that reality we all know.

I laugh, I smile, I cry. I enjoy every moment.

Love, Carol

Carol,


You did not make me sad. You were the one who cried.
No apology necessary.

Love ya,

Alice

Nice story, Carol.

Malcolm

I enjoyed the story Carol. Somehow, the sadness for me was soothed by the possibilities of there being another world to sing in.

Alice, I am glad you are soothed by your opposition that got people to comment.

My loving humorous children are making comments on my carefully written message on facebook. For those who are my friends there, you will see that sibling rivalry never ends.

Love, happy Carol

Carol,

I loved the story. It made me smile, actually. It was kind of inevitable that Sally would someday no longer be there, but what a touching relationship they had in their times of need.

Thanks for sharing!

Love,
Helen

Aw, thanks, Alice! I'm back again. The Christmas season is over in my store, and I'll be going into long periods of time at work with not a lot to do.

This is the time where I can get back in touch here on the boards--which I miss! I'm so glad to see you here!

Love,
Helen