As
soon as Sadie arrived home from school, she changed out of her dress and into
her coveralls so that she could help Gramps with the chores at the barn. Ina
watched her running across the yard, Dick at her heels. “Honestly,” Ina
muttered, “that dog would follow her to school if I’d let him.”
Gram
and Gramps also had cats, and now, much to Sadie’s delight, there were kittens
down at the barn. Uncle Earle had brought a cat he called Mr. Teeny to the farm
last summer, but when Mr. Teeny had kittens, they had to change her name to Mrs.
Teeny.
There
was a big batch of Christmas cards today, so as soon as Sadie was ready for
bed, the three of them sat together at the dining room table to open and
read them. There were half a dozen long letters – some from family in Iowa,
some from family and friends in Oregon, and a lovely thank you note from a lady
in Clarkston who used to live at Gilbert. Gram and Aunt Bertha had sent cream
and a chicken to the lady, and she was very appreciative. 
Just then the telephone rang. It seldom rang in the evening, but if it did, you knew it was important. Gram sprang to answer it so that other homes on the party line wouldn’t be disturbed. It was Sadie’s mother, Ethel.
“Hello,
Mama,” Ethel began, and Ina quickly turned over the 3-minute timer she kept
near the telephone. Every effort was made not to exceed the 3-minute limit on a
long distance call.
“We
plan to arrive Sunday, the 22nd. Ernest wants to go with Dad and
Sadie to cut the Christmas tree. Everything is fine here. Is everything all
right there? Let me speak to Sadie.” And Ina pulled over a chair so that the
child could exchange a few words with her mother. Ina kept watch on the timer,
and she knew Ethel was, too.
“Goodbye,
Sadie. We love you. We’ll see you soon.”
Ina
could see that Sadie’s initial excitement had faded into disappointment at the
abrupt ending of the call. Some sort of distraction was necessary, so even
though it was late, she suggested they listen to a radio program before bed.
Jack went to the kitchen to pop popcorn. What fun! KW
4 comments:
I remember the days of short long distance calls. They were rare, and usually from Grandma Hansen in Seattle. I also remember the phrase "person to person", so in case the one you actually wanted to talk to wasn't home, you didn't get charged. And now, we can call wherever and whenever (remember cheaper rates at night?) and never worry about the time or the cost!
And it seems like yesterday we played by those rules, but we have adults in our world who have no clue.
Frankly, I remember the old wooden crank phones in our rural areas. The farmhouse had one, and when Harriet first married Bill, they had one. They were obsolete, but rural Idaho hadn't been updated.
So everyone's phone on the party line would ring at once? But each person had their own ring, correct? I knew that others could listen in on your call, but I guess I didn't think about all the phones ringing together.
I believe that's correct. On a party line, each household would hear all the rings but answered only their assigned ring. Of course, many people would lift their receivers anytime the phone rang. No conversation was private. And even though we always had a private line, my mother was careful about the information she imparted over the phone, believing that someway, somehow, someone could be listening in.
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