Have you ever wondered why I haven't called you? It's frankly because I have inherited a syndrome known as dislikus telephonus, which in common parlance, translates to "I don't much care to talk on the telephone." It's, of course, more complicated than that. I believe that I started out to be a normal telephonatic, but that desire was soon squelched by my brother, the thief, err, dunce.
See, as a wee youngster (youngling?) I climbed up on the bar in the basement of our Valparaiso house and was able to reach the telephone. I dialed (yes, dialing was what you actually did to a telephone back in the day) 1-2-3.
My brother told me (probably before said dialing) that dialing 1-2-3 would put me through to Alaska. Imagine my horror when I actually reached Alaska with my call. Someone was even talking on the other end. Said brother probably was also the one who warned me that the cost of calling Alaska would be astronomical. I immediately hung up.
So anyway, on to current events. I recently upgraded to the 1990s with a phone containing caller ID (we used to have to screen our calls the old fashioned way, by letting the answering machine take it -- made for funny results when someone (whose name (that I happen to share with him) I won't divulge) called during Bible study and left a profanity-laden message for us). With our upcoming move, however, we are taking a step back. Below is our "new" telephone. I kid you not.
But anyway, I used to call people pretty frequently. Well, I would call Tony a lot, and we would sit and watch our own TVs and laugh at Gallagher over the phone. Yes, that's a classic skullet worn by Mr. Gallagher. Maybe the phon-bia came when I got my first phone bill at NU. Nah. That couldn't have been it.
Well, I don't have any reason. I just don't make phone calls.
6 comments:
I am so sorry...I know this is such a difficult time for you! Praying!
I believe your distaste for the telephone is directly linked to overly harsh discipline you received as a young nipper. I seem to recall an instance in which a parental figure strongly suggested that perhaps you should not continue a conversation that had degenerated into the exchange of rude noises. This brutal discipline has probably given you a complex and I advise you to seek out a Freudian psychoanalyst immediately.
By the way I no longer believe that dialing 1-2-3 will put you through to Alaska. Maybe that's because I'm now in the UK; my number for Alaska is now 001-1-2-3.
The distaste was certainly not passed on from a mother, who might have been talking on the phone, swaying all the while, snapping her finger and pointing to indicate that you should go to your room posthaste.
Or from your father' itemizing of the telephone bill each month, requiring payment for any long-distance calls. Those one-minute calls sure do add up... And must we dredge up the embarrassment of being asked "Who lives in (insert town)?" and having to admit it was a particularly "interesting" member of the opposite sex? Imagine my glee with not having to account for my every minute on the phone since the bill payer in this house DOESN'T go over them with a fine-toothed comb...
I have to say I think your new phone is the height of retro cool. I've always wanted a phone niche. You have to pay the big bucks for period features like that over here.
---Mrs Dunce
Whatever happened to Gallagher?
I saw him live in 1994, but he seems to have dropped of the face of the earth since then...
Gallagher is still around and delighting audiences young and old with his wacky routines!!!! Although .... it looks like someone has STOLEN his famed (?) raccoon hat! Go to gallaghersmash.com if you want to sob about the continued existence of his career.
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