Information Please

( I got this via an Email, it had great meaning, so I felt to 
share it)

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.

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 Please."

"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, 
"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 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 Paul?"

"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? Lifting you on eagle's wings. 
May you find the joy and peace you 

Long for.

Life is a journey.. NOT a guided tour.

With thanks to Heather Steyn