No Damn Party

My daughter told me that she “Facetimed” her friends last night, and they played Hangman and Tic-Tac-Toe. I told her that when I was young, the idea of seeing the person you were talking on the phone with was something we laughed and dreamed about, but never thought possible. That would be a miracle.

I probably would have sold my soul for a device that could fit into my pocket and allow me to contact my friends whenever I wanted to.

During my adolescent years, we lived 20 km from the nearest small town. We had one phone attached to the kitchen wall. We also had a party-line, and I tell you, it was no damn party. Three households shared the same phone line. When I talked too long, a surly neighbour would interrupt. Sometimes, I would lift the receiver to place a call only to hear that my neighbour was talking to someone. At least when I was bored and nosey I could spy on my neighbours. Facebook would have blown my mind!

Although the nearest town was only 20km away, long-distance charges applied. I had one friend who lived in the vicinity of free phone calls, but she had two teen-aged sisters and also shared a party line. I did sneak the odd call to town but dreaded the phone bill.

Once, being an adolescent asshole and desperate to connect, I resorted to fraud. I knew that a neighbour had a family member visiting another country. I’m not sure how it worked, but I remember calling the operator and claiming to be the family member. I said that I needed to make a call but I had to charge it to my home phone and gave my neighbour’s phone number. I could hear the operator call my neighbour and ask if they would accept the charges. The poor neighbour sounded confused and concerned, but she agreed and I got my “free” phone call. I did feel a little guilty.

Trips to the city were golden. It was not long-distance to call my friends from the city. I spent hours on payphones in the mall. I could check out guys from the city, smoke (while watching out for my mom,) and talk with my friends. Bliss.

One of my best telephone heists provided hours of conversation. One evening while I was driving my little motorcycle along the gravel roads, I made an amazing discovery. There, in the middle of nowhere, next to some heavy-duty equipment, was a small ATCO-type trailer. This was an entity too amazing to pass by. I don’t remember how I got into the trailer, but I do remember feeling like a spy or an action hero.

Then I spotted the treasure. Mounted on the wall was a black rotary phone. Too good to be true, I thought. Surely, it would not work. I lifted the clunky receiver to my ear. There was a dial tone! I didn’t know Jesus then, but I’m sure that I thanked him 100 times. I visited the trailer often and phoned everyone I could think of, even my cousin in Ontario. I thought I had found a victimless crime. What could be better?

A few weeks later my mom heard from the phone company. I had been found out. My mom had to pay 75.00 – a fortune to us. I don’t remember getting into much trouble; my mom always showed me much grace. I did feel terrible because if there was one thing I hated, it was making things harder for my mom.

Right now I miss my students and colleagues, I miss my sister, and I am sorely missing out on the trip to Mexico I had planned. But I have a device that fits in my pocket that allows me to contact friends whenever I want to. It is a miracle.