[collected 1998-06-12] - in 1st person
   main character is named "Jim"
   operator is "Betsy" in Tacoma
   story was truncated just after Jim's return to Tacoma.

[collected 2002-04-07] - in 3rd person (typo-purged by my mother)
   main character is named "Paul"
   operator is "Sally" in Seattle
   story continues to the sadder ending.

INFORMATION PLEASE

A man, his full identity unknown, reminisced about his childhood.  When he
was quite young, his father had one of the first telephones in their
neighborhood.  The boy remembered well the polished old case fastened to
the wall and the shiny receiver on the side of the box.  He was too little
to reach the telephone, but often listened with fascination when his mother
would talk into it. Then he 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.

His first personal experience with this genie-in-a-bottle came one day
while his mother was visiting a neighbor.  Amusing himself at the tool
bench in the basement, he accidentally whacked his finger with a hammer.
The pain was terrible, but there seemed to be little use in crying because
there was no one home to give him sympathy.  He walked around the house
sucking his throbbing finger.  Finally arriving at the stairway, he spied
the telephone.  Quickly, he ran for the footstool in the parlor and placed
it under the telephone. "Information Please," he said into the mouthpiece
just above his head.  After a click or two a calm, clear voice spoke into
his ear.  "Information."  "I hurt my finger!" the boy wailed into the
phone. The tears came readily enough now that he had an audience.  "Isn't
your mother home?"  the voice queried.  "Nobody's home but me," he
blubbered, "I'm Paul."  "Are you bleeding?" was the next question.  "No,"
he replied. "I hit my finger with a hammer and it hurts."  "Can you open
your icebox?" she asked.  He replied that he could.  "Then chip off a piece
of ice and hold it to your finger," said the voice.

After that, the boy called "Information Please" for everything.  He asked
her for help with his geography, and she told him where Philadelphia was.
She helped him with his math.  She told him that his pet chipmunk, which he
had caught in the park just the day before, would eat fruit and nuts.

Then there was the time his pet canary, Petey, died.  He called
"Information Please" and told her the sad story.  She listened, then said
the usual things grown-ups say to soothe a child, but he was inconsolable.
He asked her, "Why is it that birds 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 his deep concern for she said quietly, "Paul,
you must remember that there are other worlds to sing in."  Somehow he felt
better.  Another day he went to the telephone. "Information," said the now
familiar voice. "How do you spell fix?'" Paul asked, and soon had the
answer.

All this took place in a small town in the Pacific Northwest.  When Paul
was nine years old, he and his family moved across the country to Boston.
He missed his friend very much. "Information Please" belonged in that old
wooden box back home, and somehow he never thought of trying the new, shiny
phone that sat on the table in the hall.

As he grew into his teens, the memories of those childhood conversations
never really left him.  Often, in moments of doubt and perplexity, he would
recall the serene sense of security he had then. He appreciated now how
patient, understanding and kind she was to have spent her time on a little
boy.

A few years later, on his way west to college, his plane landed in Seattle.
He had about half-hour or so between planes. He spent 15 minutes or so on
the phone with his sister who still lived there, and then, without thinking
about what he was doing, he dialed his hometown operator and said those
familiar words, "Information Please," Miraculously, he heard the quiet,
clear voice he knew so well, "Information."  He hadn't planned it, but he
heard himself 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 be healed by now."  Paul laughed, "So it's really still you," he
said. "I wonder if you have any idea how much you meant to me during that
time?"  "I wonder," she replied, "if you know how much your calls meant to
me.  I never had any children and I used to look forward to your calls."
He told her how often he had thought of her over the years, and asked if he
could call her again when he came back to visit his sister.  "Please do,"
she said. "Just ask for Sally."

Three months later he was back in Seattle.  A different voice answered,
"Information."  He asked for Sally. "Are you a friend?" she said.  "Yes, a
very old friend," he answered.  "I'm sorry to have to tell you this," she
said.  "Sally had been working part-time in the last few years because she
was sick.  She died five weeks ago."  Before he could hang up she said,
"Wait a minute.  Are you Paul?"  "Yes," he replied.  "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."  He thanked her and hung up. He knew what
Sally meant.

-----------------------------------------------------
Never underestimate the impression you make on others.
Whose life have you touched today?