Friendship
I received this story from my sister and it was so close to a episode in my life that it gave me goose bumps.
To: Geoff
From: Ellen
Thought you might enjoy.
Whew, this will give you goosebumps:
You will truly enjoy this one. It has heart??
(Source Unknown)
Friendship
When I was quite young, my father had one of the first telephones in our neighbor hood I remember well 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 used to talk 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. My first personal experience with this 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 didn't seem to be any reason 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 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"
"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?"
"No," I replied. "I hit my finger with the hammer and it hurts."
"Can you open your icebox?" she asked, I said I could.
"Then chip off a little piece 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 fruits and nuts. Then, there was the time Petey, our pet canary died. I called "Information Please" and told her the sad story. She listen, then said the usual things grown-ups say to soothe a child. But I was unconsoled. 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?"
Yet to come: Another essay on Friendship from my friend Charles