| Little Raven's Lodge | ||||||||||||||||||||||||
| The Journey......... | ||||||||||||||||||||||||
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This property was reserved by Little Raven I'm from Virginia, USA. | |||||||||||||||||||||||
| Under Construction !!!!! | ||||||||||||||||||||||||
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The Power of Impressions >-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- > >When I was quite young, my father had one of the first telephones in >our neighborhood. 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. "Information Please" could supply >anybody's number and the correct time. > >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 in the parlor 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 listened, then >said the usual things grown-ups say to soothe a child. But I was >un-consoled. 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?" > >She must have sensed my deep concern, for she said quietly, "Paul, >always remember that there are other worlds to sing in." Somehow I >felt better. > >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 country 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 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. > >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 really >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 hang 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. | |||||||||||||||||||||||
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My interests: |
Of course my main intrest is Gardening!!! I love plants! I will soon hopefully have for your pleasure a complete list of gardening sites, help and anything else you can think of on the subject,LOL. I will also have many things realted to my intrests. so I hope to see alot of you as my home will be changing constantly. Here are some Links: http://www.geocities.com/Heartland/Oaks/7575/Vgarden.html
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