CALL ME. . .MAYBE

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Ah…the good old days of telephone booths. We had one on every corner when I lived in New York City in the 60’s. You hopped in, closed the folding glass door behind you and put in your quarter. They were particularly great in winter when you were waiting for the crosstown bus because they shut out the cold. Sure, the floor was sticky from urine and gum and they smelled gross but the few minutes of warmth were worth it.

But they’re all gone now. We walk with our own phones in hand. But I miss that sense of privacy. I really don’t want to hear everyone else’s conversations when I’m in line at the movies or sitting in a restaurant. Frankly, I’m not interested in how bad Sherry’s new haircut looks, or what Judy is going to say if David calls. Don’t care what time Joe’s dental appointment is or how much food to leave for the cat. Nor am I interested to hear you tell whoever’s on the other end what you are “going to do” to her when you, “get home.” Geez. Get a phone booth, will ya?

I miss them. Yeah, sometimes you had to wait forever while some guy argued with his girl. Sure, you had to bang on the door when you had a real emergency and that dope wouldn’t hang up the phone. Okay, so a lot of the doors were broken and had their lights busted out, but still they were a little safe haven. Best of all, when you deposited your quarter, a real, live operator would answer.

Maybe what we really need is a folding, glass door that shuts around our mouths when we’re talking into the phone; an invisible device that closes when we start to say something that we shouldn’t. Or a brain censor that monitors our thoughts and seals them off just before they come slap dashing out into words. Now there’s an invention!

Texting is handy for trivial stuff but there’s nothing like hearing a real, live voice. It just says so much more—even in the pauses. And for Heaven’s sake don’t EVER call and put me on speakerphone! Talk about a violation of privacy. The only time that’s appropriate is if you’d like me to belt out the national anthem to anyone within earshot.  If so, you’ll have to provide the popcorn first. Play ball!!

 

 

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6 thoughts on “CALL ME. . .MAYBE

  1. Ah, yes! Those telephone booths are a great memory from my youth too. I can still see the flickering, fluorescent lights illuminating the blue letters of, “TELEPHONE” in my mind. With all the use those glass accordion doors received, it’s amazing they worked so well for so long! That was American-made quality at it’s height!

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