We got our first phone when I was only a little girl around five years old. It was tan, had a rotary dial, and was oh, so fascinating.
It had its own little shelf built for it in the corner of our buggy shed. I couldn't wait until I would be old enough to make a call. I was sure I could since I had watched Mom and Daddy often. And then one day Mom was debating whether or not to wash the bedding the next morning. She thought it almost looked as if it could rain and didn't want to go through the work of filling up the cast iron tub we used to heat our water for laundry.
She scribbled a number on a piece of paper, handed it to me, and told me to run out and call the weather line and see if they are predicting rain.
I grew several inches right there as I took the piece of paper and ran out to the shed as fast as my little legs could carry me. I stood on the chair and carefully lifted the receiver and proceeded to dial the number. It was every bit as fun as I thought it would be to stick my finger in those little holes and spin the dial.
Having dialed I waited eagerly to hear the weather report, but much to my horror after only two rings a voice on the other end said, "Heplers Hardware, can I help you?"
I knew that voice! It belonged to a bewhiskered man that stood behind the counter of the little hardware store in town. I had been there with Mom only last week. He had looked scary then and I was sure he wouldn't like a little girl to be calling him.
I did the only logical thing and slammed the receiver down.
I studied the numbers on the paper and ever so carefully dialed again. Again I reached Heplers Hardware, and again I slammed the receiver down. After repeating the same thing several more times I gave up and went to the house defeated.
Mom had to go check the weather, and I knew without asking that I wouldn't be making any more calls until I was older.