Now That’s a Phone!

A phone of my youth! Brought back memories of its use.

Who was calling and for whom? The joy of calling a friend to escape cleaning my room.

Mom’s nickname for me in my teens was Miss Telephone Head; too busy to make my bed.

With a long cord to tether me to earth. So Mom could tell me supper was ready.

The phone and I could always be found by tracking the cord from its niche in the wall in the hall to my room. The door, usually shut had a sign on it reading “Enter at your own risk.” Ha! Ha! Mom is so funny.

I could monopolize the phone for hours. Whoever had the phone had power!

It never needed to be charged. That’s what landlines are for.

Misdialled a number? Just hang up. Phone numbers weren’t as traceable back then.

That may be how prank phone calls began.

When “Call Waiting” was introduced, I knew my phone time would be reduced. Dad was too cheap to pay for that service. Little did I know that I was missing calls too.

There was only one ring tone, and you knew it came from THE phone.

No guessing as to whose phone It was.

True, a new phone has advantages, but being a phone isn’t its primary use.

The phone icon sits modestly on the screen among the many others.

There are too many beeps and sounds coming from that mother.

By the time I hear a ring tone, determine it is my phone and dig to the bottom of my bag 0nly to find I was seconds too late. The caller had hung up.

A few minutes later, I hear a different sound from my phone.

A text – a future poem to moan and groan.