Old Trumpet Article

CAN YOU HEAR ME NOW?

My relationship with the phone has been long and troubled.

I grew up in a home with five kids and – yes, believe it or not kids today – not only one phone line, but only one phone. Weird, but when the phone rang, you knew exactly where it was because it was connected to the wall. And it was so heavy Alfred Hitchcock was able to use a similar model as a murder weapon in Dail M for Murder.

My sisters and I all arrived at dating age at the same time. We had a mother that was ABSOLUTELY scrupulous in her unwillingness to tell a lie. So, in other words, you didn’t dare say:

If so and so calls, I’m not home.

If so and so calls, tell him I’m dead.

If John Yenny calls, I’M HERE!

So, it was not unusual for the phone to ring and all three girls run out the front door. From the front yard we would hear my mother say “no, I’m sorry she’s not here.”

On a good day, she would tell you who the call was for. As in: “Theresa, that was for you.”

No matter how good the day, you hardly ever heard who it was that had called. If it was a guy on the other end of the phone, no message was taken, since we girls were not allowed to return the call, anyway.

So all my life, when the phone rang, I have either bolted out the front door or dived for the phone in the ridiculous hope that it was either John Yenny or Ed McMahon.

But now I have reached a point memorable than turning 30, more life-changing than turning 40 and more life ****** than the prospect of turning 50.

When the phone rings I completely ignore it.

I have gotten to the point where I have given up on Ed McMahon and anyone worthwhile leaves a message. Now that I think about it, even those of no worth leave a message. Does the DNC, RNC and the carpet cleaning company REALLY think I listen to those recordings?

The phone is never for either of my teenagers, so there is no need to answer the phone to find out who is in their lives. The teenagers have cell phones and my only involvement with the telephone aspect of their lives is paying the bill. I had the illusion that I would actually study the bills and see who they were calling and vice versa. Doesn’t happen. My perusal of the bills is limited to who stayed within their minutes and who downloaded the AC/DC ringtone.

The phone is occasionally for one of the little guys. I hear them on the phone grunting for several minutes. They hang up.

I ask: Who was it?

They answer: No one.

What did you talk about, I ask.

They answer: Nothing.

Short of getting out a harsh light and rubber *** I’m not sure how much more involved the law allows me, as a parent, to be.