An Email I had to Share,

 

When James was quite young, his father had one of the first

 

telephones in our neighborhood. He remembers the polished

 

old case fastened to the wall. The shiny receiver hung on the

 

side of the box. He was too little to reach the telephone, but

 

used to listen with fascination when his mother talked to it.

 

James:

 

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-the-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 the receiver and held it to my ear.

 

Information please I said into the mouthpiece just above my

 

head. A click of 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 a hammer and it hurts'

 

'Can you open the ice box?' 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, 'James, always remember that there are other

 

worlds to sing in.'

 

Somehow, I felt better. Another day I was on the telephone,

 

'Information Please' 'Information', now in a familiar voice ,

 

said 'how do you 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 set

 

down in Seattle, 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 heard myself saying,

 

'can 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, 'Sally had been working part time for the past 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 James?' '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.

 

Who's life have you touched today?

 

Lifting you on Eagles 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. I hope you enjoy

 

it and get a blessing.