"Information, Please"

THE OLD PHONE ON THE WALL

This is a story that was e-mailed to me:

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 into 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.

After a click or two 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 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 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 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?

I loved this story and just had to pass it on. I hope you enjoy it too.

A dog story, a cat story

Before we begin: An apology to bird lovers. Actually, I love birds, too; it's just that birds lose in the stories I'm about to tell.

There are two stories. One is about a dog named Lucy, the other is about a cat named Smokey. Lucy's story is hearsay to me, but I am an eyewitness to Smokey's story.

The first story appeared in a Yahoo user's group called Bergen County (NJ) Freecycle. Freecycle (as in “free recycling”) is an online place where anyone can offer up anything they own to anyone who may want it, for free. Also, anyone can request an item that they're looking for. It beats throwing away something that's perfectly good, doesn't it?

Freecycle is not a forum for storytelling, but I guess this person felt the storytelling urge and couldn't resist it. Bear in mind, the only reason the writer wrote any of this was to ask for some netting - that's it, just a little bit of netting. His story follows:

I have a fig tree that is protected by three big dogs that hate squirrels while two of them hate birds, and one of them has run across the yard at full speed following a bird. I watched and laughed and said, "Lucy, what are you doing? Everyone knows a dog can't catch a bird."

Her sister Brandy once spent forty-five minutes in a lake chasing ducks, refusing to believe that a swimming dog can't catch a swimming and flying duck (lol). Well, I watched Lucy, 75% yellow lab/25% chow and extremely energetic, chasing a bird. Lucy ran across the yard and up the steps I built adjacent to their giant dog house leading to a deck I built for the three of them to sit and guard the Ponderosa like lionesses guarding the pride.

Anyway, Lucy raced full speed under the flying escaping bird. Then, Lucy ran up the stairs without losing a step. Then wheeeeeeee into the air dove Lucy catching the bird in mid flight. I thought, "Wow, everyone knows a dog can't catch a flying bird when the bird has a head start."

Ah, but then we have the crows. The intelligent crows. They sit on the roof and wait. And Lucy sits like a lion ready to spring while looking, supposedly in the opposite direction. When Lucy goes in the house, or in the opposite direction, the crows swoop down and poke their beaks through the maroon tips of the purple figs that are one or two days short of tree-ripened. They are eating half the crop. I don't mind if they ate only 1/4 or a 1/3 the crop, I'm all for feeding the pollinating birds and bees, but now they are getting selfish.

I am now looking for a netting to go over the fig tree. Let's keep this on the down-low hush-hush. I don't want Goldie, Lucy and Brandy to think I don't trust their home security system (lol). Truly, I know it's a long-shot. Are there any fellow gardeners out there with extra netting? Thank You (signed).

Well, that's one story. I guess I simply enjoyed the writer's enthusiasm. You know, the only thing he had to write was the very last sentence, about the netting. But as my wife is fond of saying, “We are a story-telling species.”

I like to tell stories, too. Here's what I wrote to Lucy's owner:

I'm sorry I don't have any netting, but I just wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed your story about your dogs and the birds. I'll bet the birds are even more surprised than you are that your dogs can catch them; that's probably why they're not taking the proper precautions. But those crows are smart, aren't they? Too bad they don't have a sweet song.

I had a cat named Smokey that was pretty clever about birds, too, but he didn't chase them, he'd let the birds come to him. Smokey would sit very still in plain sight, about three feet above the ground in a planter that had no plants in it. His presence infuriated all the mockingbirds in the neighborhood. The funny thing is, Smokey posed no danger to the birds, so long as the birds stayed in the trees. Smokey would never climb a tree to chase a bird.

As Smokey sat all tucked-in in the planter, he would pretend to sleep while the birds scolded and scolded at him, dove at him, probably even pecked or clawed at him. He looked very serene, but all the while he would make this quiet little staccato sound. It's just like he was cursing at the birds, but only under his breath so they wouldn't know what was coming. As he let the birds scold him and swoop at him, finally one of the birds would become emboldened and stay right over Smokey just a moment too long, and then Wham! Bye, bye birdie.

This went on for a long time. The birds never learned. For Smokey, I wonder if he simply enjoyed napping in the planter, birds or no birds, or if he knew that he could keep using the birds this way for his sport, day after day?

Good luck with your fig tree (signed).

Do you have any animal stories that you'd like to share with me and my readers? Isn't it funny to think that our modern-day birds may be direct descendants of Tyrannosaurus Rex? Way back then, they could have taught our dogs and cats a thing or two. Please leave a comment; I'd love to hear from you.

On the passing of Ted Kennedy

I was nine years old when President Kennedy was assassinated in 1963. I have vague memories of riding the school bus home on that day, of sad people, of the riderless horse in the funeral cortège, of little John-John in his funeral suit, of Jacqueline Kennedy in black, Lyndon Johnson... Oswald... Jack Ruby... guns...

And then later, conspiracy theories, the Warren Commission... Then Bobby Kennedy, dead on a hotel's kitchen floor. Martin, dead on a balcony. Riots. Burning, burning, burning.

If you don't remember this first-hand and it sounds to you like times were bad, well, they were. There were, of course, many good things: The Civil Rights Act of 1964. The Beatles, and so much other fabulous, enduring music.

But when there's a historical program on TV dealing with the 1960's, I'm very careful about deciding whether or not to watch it, because it was a pretty chaotic time, and, with the Vietnam War underscoring the entire period (our involvement lasted sixteen years), the whole era has a nightmarish quality to it. You know how, even with a nightmare, there can still be good moments? For me, it's a little like that.

When I awoke this morning to the news of Ted Kennedy's death, I cried. My wife and I cried together when I told her. I'm crying a little right now. There's a part of me that's saying, “Why are you crying? He was just another politician.” The crying part of me doesn't argue the point, because that isn't the point.

I think that, when you're nine years old, it's pretty hard to fathom something like an assassination. It doesn't make sense. You can't touch it or smell it. It happened far from my Miami Beach home, far away in Texas. My mother grew up in Texas, in the Rio Grande Valley on an orange orchard, but I've never been there. It's just someplace far away, like Washington, DC.

And I didn't understand emotions, anyway. My mother seemed to have a lot of them, and they seemed to cause her a lot of problems, so I didn't want to have a lot to do with them. I didn't actually think that in 1963; these are things I think about now.

Now I'm 55, and I have been in a profound process of emotional healing for the last several years. I'll spare you the details, but those emotions I didn't want to be in touch with? Let's just say that they have decided to get in touch with me.

So when I awoke this morning to the news of Ted Kennedy's death, a wave of feeling, a wave that has been waiting offshore for its time for so many years, a great wave washed over me and through me. As the wave broke upon me, instead of sea foam and flotsam there was John, and Bobby, and Martin, and riots, and burning... ...and John... and I cry for John, for all of them, for all of us.

And it's okay. That's the big news for me these days. All these feelings are okay. They are filled with priceless information about me and my place in the world. And while some emotions are painful, the pain simply moves through me, like a thunderstorm moves through a town. The storm comes, it rages, and when it leaves everything is fresher and nicer. For me this is big news, and it's good news.

Please join me in saying a prayer for Ted Kennedy, for everyone in his tragic family, and for all of us, everywhere. May you find a deep and abiding peace that glows from within. Amen.

Do you remember John Kennedy's death, or any of the '60's? Do you have any thoughts or feelings about what happened then, or about Ted Kennedy? I'd love to hear from you.

Health Care Reform - wait - you might not have heard this before...

I want to take a different angle on this topic. Let's take a step back from the partisan rhetoric, the specific line-item issues, the dire predictions of what will happen if this legislation does or doesn't get passed.

To a greater or lesser degree I've followed politics since the Johnson administration and I don't know if I've ever heard such extreme, far-out attacks mounted against a set of legislation proposals: The government will force you to sign away all your assets. The government will euthanize the elderly or disabled, just as the Nazis did. This isn't rational discourse about policy, this is hysteria. All of this makes me curious: What is really going on here?

There's a concept I've learned that says when people get hysterical about something, then the hysteria is probably not about whatever appears to be the topic at hand. For instance: If I am confronted with an immediate threat (a speeding car bearing down on me, a mugger with a knife) it is highly unlikely that I'll go all to pieces in that moment. I'll be too busy responding to the threat with some sort of appropriate behavior, but I won't be flipping out. If this is true, then what might the health-care hysteria be about?

On that November night in 2008 when Barack Obama was elected President, this nation changed forever. A little more than a dozen decades after the time in this country when being African-American was tantamount to a life sentence to enslavement, an African-American was elected - not to one of the highest offices in the land, but to the highest office, a position of immense symbolic and historic significance, a position often considered to be the most powerful in the world.

I think that the shock waves of this event are still reverberating, but they're not being fully acknowledged. As Americans always do after any election, everyone is simply trying to go about their business, managing the best they can regardless of how they may feel about the election results. This is an important part of how our democracy survives, even after events like the Gore-Bush debacle.

But I think that Obama's election is much, much bigger than Gore v. Bush and other such problems. I think that the fact of Obama's election is an affront to the core beliefs of millions of Americans, core beliefs such as, What does being an American mean to me? What does the presidency mean to me? What does it mean to be white, to be black?

Obviously, this is not a major issue for those who voted for Obama, and it may not be an issue for many of those who voted for McCain. But I suggest that, for a great number of people, Obama's election has turned an important part of their world upside-down, and these people are still reeling.

Now, think for a moment what it means to be afraid. I don't mean scary-movie momentarily afraid, I mean deep-in-your-gut implacably afraid. Afraid like end-of-the-world afraid. This is a very bad feeling. Such a feeling would affect anyone's behavior. Such a feeling could cause anyone to behave irrationally.

If I can imagine just for a moment that I was a lot more of a racist than I am (I'm not going to pretend that I have no racist sentiments whatsoever), then I could see how the advancement of Barack Obama would be my worst nightmare. How would I be able to feel as patriotic as I always have when a “n-----” has just been put in charge of the country I love? I would imagine that I would feel devastated, with nowhere to turn.

I want to take this exercise in imagination one step further. Now it seems that this black president wants to change everything, and change it quickly. He even seems to be demanding change. At this point, my fear might become panic.

The definition of “panic” is “a sudden overwhelming fear... that produces hysterical or irrational behavior... that often spreads quickly through a group (dictionary.reference.com).” Isn't this exactly what's going on right now during the August congressional recess as our representatives meet with their constituents?

Just as he did when the Jeremiah Wright issue hit the fan during the campaign, I call upon President Obama to speak more directly to this greater issue, this meta-issue that I feel is driving the intense opposition to health care reform. I cannot think of any greater legislative challenge facing our aging populace and our crippled economy than health care reform.

If this reform fails or if it passes in some useless watered-down form, it will be many years before there will be the political will to tackle this problem again. I believe that it is of the utmost importance that health care reform succeeds in a resounding manner and that it succeeds now. I also believe that President Obama is the right man at the right time to lead the charge, and the right man to address the greater issues that are impeding progress.

What do you think? Why are people so worked up about health care reform? Do you think it could be a reaction against the Obama presidency in general? How do you feel about health care reform? Do you think the president is doing a good job in general? How well is the president handling health care reform?

The First Post: A Catastrophe

This blog wasn't supposed to happen; not yet. I was supposed to launch a couple of commercial blogs first. One of those two is under way. This one was supposed to wait, but it would not.

This might be sort of a Seinfeldian blog; a blog about nothing. My other blogs are/will be about particular topics. This one will be more of a rant.

Let's get started: While trying to fall asleep the other night, I instead thought of an original joke. I dedicate this joke to my sister Carol Ann, the ultimate cat person.

First, I wish to explain why Carol has attained such an honor. Carol is not merely a cat lover. Carol is a cat in human form. She has a cat's values, priorities, and sensibilities. She relates to her cats as peers, and her cats understand this. For instance: When I e-mailed Carol the joke I'm about to tell you, a cat joke, she did not respond. I was not offended. Cats find cat jokes to be beneath them; it would only make sense if Carol feels the same way.

The joke:

What would be a feline punctuation mark?

A catastrophe! And it would look like this: >'<

Cat whiskers (><) + apostrophe (little cat nose) = catastrophe.

The purpose of a catastrophe is to signify a pause of indefinite duration. When you use the catastrophe, you are saying to your reader, “I'm going to stop writing for a while. I don't know when I'll be back. I might have something to eat, or bathe, or nap, or some combination of these choices. I don't know and it doesn't matter, and it's really none of your business, anyway.” Think like a cat and you'll understand.

>'<

Stay tuned... ...more tomorrow.