Telephone
Blues Book

This piece was written almost a quarter of a century ago.  It   would be nice to say the advent of cell phones have alleviated the problem.  Not true.  Today a family of five features all five talking at once on five different cell phones.  I know one family living in a three story house that will call one another from floor to floor.  Whatever happened to good old fashioned yelling? 

October 21, 1981 

Supposedly, the story goes, when Alexander Graham Bell wanted to test his new invention for the first time he called his friend in the next room and said, “Mr. Watson, if you can hear my voice please come here.” 

I wish Mr. Bell had dialed our house instead.  He would most likely have gotten a busy signal because my daughter, the junior high schooler, would have been on the phone discussing, with a fellow student, she was wearing to school the next day.  Should Alex have foreseen this aggravating side of his brainchild, maybe he would have forgotten the whole project.

The telephone is not my favorite offspring of the industrial revolution.  Woody Hayes, the famous former Ohio State football coach and pugilist, always stated he didn’t believe in passing the football because when you put the ball in the air five different things could happen and four of them were bad.  I have the same response when a telephone rings. 

When you hear the jangle of a phone do you really expect good news?  Of course not.  The best one can hope for is breaking even with a wrong number. 

The phone at our house is never silent.  In the wee morning hours, when even bread delivery men are still pounding their ear in the bed of their choice, the junior high school network is up and in action. 

I will never understand why the entire female population of the seventh grade has to use the telephone for hours on end in order for the entire group to be color coordinated.  They all wind up wearing jeans with numbers on the back pocket anyway. 

Once the school bell beckons and the house becomes less crowded there is still no respite from the constant ringing.  It’s time for church circle volunteering, school safety discussions, car pool scheduling, upcoming bridge games, teacher evaluations, and a constant interchange of information on every fund raising effort in the Western world from Mothers March to Girl Scout cookie sales. 

I suppose there are benefits.  Marriage counselors say couples quit talking to one another after a decade of marriage.  That simply isn’t true at our house.  I’m in constant communication with my wife.  Of course all I ever get to say is, “It’s for you.” 

At this point you’re probably of the opinion that I’m just envious because no one ever gives me a call.  I only wish that were true.  While my calls are indeed few and far between, I can count on the majority of my phone communications coming when there are three minutes left in the murder mystery I’ve been watching for the past two hours and I’ve got the suspect list narrowed to five.  Or when the Bronco’s have the ball on the three yard line, it’s fourth and goal, there’s 23 seconds left in the game, and the Orange Shirts are trailing by four points. 

No one ever calls to interrupt my helping with fifth grade math, mowing the yard, or while I’m watching the 10 o’clock news. 

But just let the winning run of the final game of the World Series be on third base with two out and a full count on the hitter and the phone will ring.  Without answering, I know it’s for me.  I’ll pick up only to encounter the cheery resonance of what must be a top 40 disc jockey working part time in the evening. 

“Mr. Maynard?” the voice questions without waiting for a reply.  “This is Johnny Dark at Acme Builders and I was wondering if you still own your own home in Grand Junction.”  I’m tempted to tell him I’m still living here in a partnership arrangement with a local savings and loan but wanting to get the call over with I simply mumble, “Yes.” 

“Well Mr. Maynard, have you considered adding storm windows to your residence in the near future?”  Common sense tells you to hang up and get back to the TV set in the other room where you can hear the distant voice of an announcer screaming about just witnessing the greatest play in the history of competition. 

The phone voice drones on, “Well, Mr. Maynard, Acme Builders is looking for some business-oriented homeowners to serve as demonstrators to showcase our storm windows if you’ll agree to allow us to install our Super Saver windows at much below the regular retail price.”  When he finally stops to take a breath I hurriedly mumble “No thanks,” hang up, and rush back to the TV set just in time for a commercial. 

Life’s other thrill unique to the telephone is the call in the middle of the night.  Nothing awakens a person more suddenly from a sound sleep.  As you stumble through the dark, you’re mentally counting if everyone is home and in bed.  When all re present and accounted for, your sleep-numbed brain speculates as to what relative has encountered trouble. 

After picking up the receiver and muttering a hurried “Hello,” the voice from outer space slurs, “Is Shirley there?” 

“I’m sorry, there’s no Shirley living here.”

“Are you sure?” the voice asks. 

At that point you can only answer before hanging up, “Have I ever lied to you before?” 

And for all of this, we should be grateful to Alexander Graham Bell.