CHRIST IN WINTER: Reflections on Faith & Life for the Years of Winter
For some reason [it’s money, stupid!] America is set on eliminating people from commerce. Be it producing raw materials, using them in manufacturing, or selling the products, the ideal is “untouched by human hands.” The theory is: Anything people can do, machines can do better, and cheaper. There are gains, perhaps, economically, but we pay a high price socially.
Especially confounding is the loss of the telephone operator known as “Central.” That’s how she answered when you turned the crank and rang her up, just that one word, “Central.”
When Helen was about two, she cut off a leg. Well, it was something serious like that. Her mother grabbed the phone and yelled, “Call the doctor and call my mother” and hung up to attend to Helen. Very soon running up the walk were Dr. McClure and Lara Heltzel. “Central” had recognized Georgia’s voice and knew who her mother was and which of the town’s two doctors attended their family.
One day my mother called Central in Francisco, IN and asked for Dill’s store. “Do you want to talk to Johnny or Ted?” Central asked. “I think Johnny’s still there, but Ted just left.” Her office was across the street from the store.
Then there are people who are not designated as “Central,” but who do the work anyway…
Daughter Katie saw a tweet about a guy [apparently in England] whose father has a telephone number similar to that of the train station. He often gets calls asking about train schedules. It costs people to call, and he doesn’t want them to lose their change, so he just got a copy of the train schedule and looks up the next train to nowhere [actually, Katie said “to Bristol”] himself instead of telling them they have the wrong number.
When we lived in Arcola, IL, every September a man called wanting to talk to Phil Yoder. There were lots of Yoders in that Amish-laden area, but we knew of no Phil. The caller and Helen always had a nice conversation about Phil’s continuing absence from our house, but they had nothing else to talk about, so Helen finally just got Phil’s number herself so she could give it to the guy.
When we lived in Normal, IL our number was just one digit different from the IL State U office that handled both the university police and janitorial services. Unfortunately, one of their shifts ended at midnight, and I often got calls around 1:30 in the morning from women wanting to know “where in the hell is my husband?” I did quite a bit of wee hours marriage counseling on the phone.
When they lived in Gary, IN, Helen’s family often got a call from a man who whispered, “Is he gone yet?” Her mother got fed up with it and said, “Yes, come on over.” Then she got to worrying and watched the newspapers for days for reports of knifing incidents. There were so many, though, that she wasn’t sure if the man she had invited over was one of them.
Life is so much easier with a Central.
Every family, every group, every organization needs a “Central.” They may not be called that, but that’s what they are. Today is Helen’s birthday. I’m so grateful that my life still has a Central.
When I was a child, our number was similar to Dial a Prayer. My dad often indulged folks. :-)
ReplyDeleteHappy Birthday Helen!!