（一）
When I was quite young my family had one of the first telephones in our neighborhood.I remember well the polished oak case fastened to the wall on the lower stair landing.The shiny receiver hung on the side of the box.I even remeber the number--105.I was too little to reach the telephon,but used to listen with fascination when my mother talked to it.Once she lifted me up to speak to my father,who was away to it.Once she lifted me up to speak to my father,who was away on business.Magic!
Then I discovered that somewhere inside that wonderful device live an amazing person---her name was "Ifnormation Please" and there was nothing she did not know.My mother could ask her for anybody's number;when our clock ran down,Information Please immediately supplied the correct time.
My first personal experience with this genie-in-the-receiver cmae one day while my mother was visitiong 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 much use crying because there was no one home to offer 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 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 fingerrr----"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 wept.
"Are you bleeding?"
"No,"I replied."I hit it with the hammer and it hurts."
"Can you open your icebox?"I said I could."Then chip off a little piece of ice and hold it on your finger.That will stop the hurt.Be carefull when you use the ice pick,"she admonished."And don't cry.You'll be all right."
After that,I called Information please for everything.I asked her for help with my geography and my arithmetic,and she told me that my pet chipmunk--I had caught in the park just the day before--would eat fruit and nuts.
And there was a time that 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 comfort a child.But I was not consoled:Why was is that birds should sing so beautifully and bright joy to whole families,only to end up as a heap of feathers,feet up,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 at the telephone."Information,"said the now familiar voice.
"How do you spell fix?"I asked.
"Fix something?F-I-X."
At that instant my sister,who took unholy joy in scaring me,jumped off the stairs at me with a shriek----"Yaaaaaaaa!"I fell off the stool,pulling the receiver out of the box by its roots.We were both terrified---Information Please was no longer there,and I was not at all sure that I hadn't hurt her when I pulled the receiver out.
Minutes later there was a man on the proch."I'm a telephon repairman,"he said."I was working down the street.And the operator siad there might be some trouble at this number."He reached for the receiver in my hand."What happened?"
I told him.
(Childhood is so nice and curious.Children need an audience often are eger to be listened to their will and story by others without impatience.)
"INFORMATION PLEASE"
When I was quite young my family had one of the first telephones in our neighborhood.I remember well the polished oak case fastened to the wall on the lower stair landing.The shiny receiver hung on the side of the box.I even remeber the number--105.I was too little to reach the telephon,but used to listen with fascination when my mother talked to it.Once she lifted me up to speak to my father,who was away to it.Once she lifted me up to speak to my father,who was away on business.Magic!
Then I discovered that somewhere inside that wonderful device live an amazing person---her name was "Ifnormation Please" and there was nothing she did not know.My mother could ask her for anybody's number;when our clock ran down,Information Please immediately supplied the correct time.
My first personal experience with this genie-in-the-receiver cmae one day while my mother was visitiong 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 much use crying because there was no one home to offer 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 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 fingerrr----"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 wept.
"Are you bleeding?"
"No,"I replied."I hit it with the hammer and it hurts."
"Can you open your icebox?"I said I could."Then chip off a little piece of ice and hold it on your finger.That will stop the hurt.Be carefull when you use the ice pick,"she admonished."And don't cry.You'll be all right."
After that,I called Information please for everything.I asked her for help with my geography and my arithmetic,and she told me that my pet chipmunk--I had caught in the park just the day before--would eat fruit and nuts.
And there was a time that 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 comfort a child.But I was not consoled:Why was is that birds should sing so beautifully and bright joy to whole families,only to end up as a heap of feathers,feet up,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 at the telephone."Information,"said the now familiar voice.
"How do you spell fix?"I asked.
"Fix something?F-I-X."
At that instant my sister,who took unholy joy in scaring me,jumped off the stairs at me with a shriek----"Yaaaaaaaa!"I fell off the stool,pulling the receiver out of the box by its roots.We were both terrified---Information Please was no longer there,and I was not at all sure that I hadn't hurt her when I pulled the receiver out.
Minutes later there was a man on the proch."I'm a telephon repairman,"he said."I was working down the street.And the operator siad there might be some trouble at this number."He reached for the receiver in my hand."What happened?"
I told him.
(Childhood is so nice and curious.Children need an audience often are eger to be listened to their will and story by others without impatience.)
[ 此帖被左。微希在2011-10-16 21:37重新编辑 ]
