Another day I was on the telephone. "Information Please."
"Information"
said the now familiar voice. "How do you spell 'fix'?" I asked. All this took place in a small town in the Pacific Northwest.
When I was 9 years old, we moved across the county 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 tall, shiny new pone 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 half an 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 realy still 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 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 hand up she said. " Wait a minute. did you say your name was Paul?"
"Yes"
"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.'"
I thanked her and hung up. I knew What sally meant.
--Anonymous
