There is an organization for those who could not get into Mensa, the high IQ society. It's called Densa.<br>Hmmm. Wonder if this fits any members of this forum??? <br><br>Subject: Information Please<br>Make sure you have a hanky handy!<br> When I was quite young, my father had one of the first telephones in our neighborhood. I remember 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 talked to it. Then I discovered that somewhere inside the wonderful device lived an amazing person. Her name was &quot;Information Please&quot; and there was nothing she did not know. Information Please could supply anyone's number and the correct time. <br> My personal experience with the genie-in-a-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 seemed no point 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 in the parlor and held it to my ear. &quot;Information, please&quot; I said into the mouthpiece just above my head. A click or two and a small clear voice spoke into my ear. &quot;Information.&quot; &quot;I hurt my finger...&quot; I wailed into the phone, the tears came readily enough now that I had an audience. &quot;Isn't your mother home?&quot; came the question. &quot;Nobody's home but me,&quot; I blubbered. &quot;Are you bleeding?&quot; the voice asked. &quot;No,&quot; I replied. &quot;I hit my finger with the hammer and it hurts.&quot; &quot;Can you open the icebox?&quot; she asked. I said I could. &quot;Then chip off a little bit of ice and hold it to your finger,&quot; said the voice. <br> After that, I called &quot;Information Please&quot; 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 fruit and nuts. Then, there was the time Petey, our pet canary, died. I called, Information Please,&quot; and told her the sad story. She listened, and then said things grown-ups say to soothe a child. But I was not consoled. I asked her, &quot;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?&quot; She must have sensed my deep concern, for she said quietly, &quot;Paul always remember that there are other worlds to sing in.&quot; Somehow I felt better. Another day I was on the telephone, &quot;Information Please.&quot; &quot;Information,&quot; said in the now familiar voice. &quot;How do I spell fix?&quot; I asked. <br> All this took place in a small town in the Pacific Northwest. When I was nine years old, we moved across the country to Boston. I missed my friend very much. &quot;Information Please&quot; belonged in that old wooden box back home and I somehow never thought of trying the shiny new phone 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.<br> A few years later, on my way west to college, my plane put down in Seattle. I had about a half-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, &quot;Information Please.&quot; Miraculously, I heard the small, clear voice I knew so well. &quot;Information.&quot; I hadn't planned this, but I heard myself saying, &quot;Could you please tell me how to spell fix?&quot; There was a long pause. Then came the soft spoken answer, &quot;I guess your finger must have healed by now.&quot; I laughed, &quot;So it's really you,&quot; I said. &quot;I wonder if you have any idea how much you meant to me during that time?&quot; I wonder,&quot; she said, &quot;if you know how much your call meant to me. I never had any children and I used to look forward to your calls.&quot; 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. &quot;Please do&quot;, she said. &quot;Just ask for Sally.&quot; Three months later I was back in Seattle. A different voice answered, &quot;Information.&quot; I asked for Sally. &quot;Are you a friend?&quot; she said. &quot;Yes, a very old friend,&quot; I answered. &quot;I'm sorry to have to tell you this,&quot; she said. &quot;Sally had been working part-time the last few years because she was sick. She died five weeks ago.&quot;Before I could hang up she said, &quot;Wait a minute, did you say your name was Paul?&quot; &quot;Yes.&quot; I answered. &quot;Well, Sally left a message for you. She wrote it down in case you called. Let me read it to you.&quot; The note said, &quot;Tell him there are other worlds to sing in. He'll know what I mean.&quot; I thanked her and hung up. I knew what Sally meant.<br> Never underestimate the impression you may make on others. Whose life have you touched today? Why not pass this on? I just did.... Lifting you on eagle's wings. May you find the joy and peace you long for. Life is a journey ... NOT a guided tour. I loved this story and just had to pass it on. I hope you enjoy it and get a blessing from it just as I did. <br><br>

 

Nice. ;D<br><br>Thanks

 

Wow!

 

Very well put.

 

At first the story made me and then I wanted to :'( , but all together it was ;D

 

This touches a nerve with me, I repair telephones and I have been working for the same realativly small company for the last 15 years. Some customers, I have dealt with for that entire duration and certain people stand out and/or you develop a rapore with them. It is a kick in the gut when you find that one of them has passed unexpectedly.