Telephones

My telephone is 14”x7” when held by hand, and at arm’s length when held up to answer. It is near impossible to find when misplaced. This small object does a multitude of things other than talking and listening. It can be a calculator, reach my e-mail and internet. It is a camera, stores pictures, answers questions with encyclopedias knowledge and gives me games to play. All phone numbers are inside the phone. Could this have even been imagined when my mother had the first telephone installed in our home—probably in the late forties. I never knew why she decided we needed a phone. She purchased a small table with a shelf underneath to place the phone book. This was a black dial phone with a cord into the wall of our hallway and a three-party line. Our number was 6371. Strange that I have remembered this throughout my life when I have to keep my present number written down. We waited for three rings before answering. It was tempting to listen in on another call, and I was often denied phone privilege when this occurred. A long-distance call had to go through an operator. Dialing zero would take you to the operator who answered, “Wadley.” Wadley seemed to handle all phone business and was the place you could board the train for Atlanta. After telling operator the place and number, you were given three minutes to talk. After that you heard, “Your three minutes are up. Further time will be on your bill.” My mother never allowed this to happen and kept her words to fit into three minutes. Phone problems increased when I moved to Atlanta. We did not want to waste money talking after I had just been home and talked about all I needed to tell. However, she did want to know that I arrived safely. To do, we had a little scheme. I would say, “I want to place a collect call to 6371 in Swainsboro.” Operator asked, Will you accept the charges? 6371 replied, “No.” Therefore no charge and my mother had a good night of sleep knowing I was safely back in Atlanta. This was not ethical but did no harm. Do not try this yourself, since that process no longer works. In fact, we no longer go through an operator on our small phones at all. A future column will explain why my mother was so concerned about my return to the correct destination. Write to Shirley at [email protected].