When I was quite young, my father had one of the first telephones in our neighborhood. I remember well the polished, old case fastened to the wall. The shiny receiver hung on the side of the box. I was too little to reach the telephone, but used to listen with fascination when my mother used to talk to it. Then I discovered that somewhere inside the wonderful device lived an amazing person her name was
"Information Please" and there was nothing she did not know. "Information Please" could supply anybody''s number and the correct time. 

    My first personal experience with this genie-in-the-bottle came one day while my mother was visiting 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 any reason in crying because there was no one home to give sympathy. I walked around the house sucking my throbbing finger, finally arriving at the stairway. 

    The telephone! Quickly, I ran for the foot stool in the parlor and dragged it to the landing. Climbing up, I unhooked the receiver in the parlor and held it to my ear. "Information Please," I saidsintosthe mouthpiece just above my head. A click or two and a small clear voice spokesintosmyear,"Information." 

    "I hurt my finger..." I wailedsintosthe 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 blubbered. 

    "Are you bleeding?" the voice asked. 

    "No," I replied. "I hit my finger with the hammer and it hurts." 

    "Can you open your icebox?" she asked. I said I could. 

    "Then chip off a little piece of ice and hold it to your finger," said the voice. 

    After that, I called "Information Please" for everything. I asked her for help with my geography and she told meswheresPhiladelphia was. She helped me with my math. She told me my pet chipmunk, that I had caught in the park just the day before, would eat fruit and nuts. Then, there was the time Petey, 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 soothe a child. But I was unconsoled. I asked her, "Why is it that birds should sing so beautifully and bring joy to all families, only to end up as a heap of feathers 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 on the telephone. "Information Please." 

    "Information," said the now familiar voice. 

    "How do you spell fix?" I asked. 

    All this took place in a small town in the Pacific Northwest. When I was nine years old, we moved across the country to Boston. I missed my friend very much. "Information Please" belonged in that old wooden box back home and I somehow never thought of trying the tall, shiny new phone that sat on the table in the hall. As I grewsintosmy teens, the memories of those childhood conversations never really left me. Often, in moments of doubt and perplexity, I would recall the serene sense of security I had then. I appreciated now how patient, understanding, and kind she was
to have spent her time on a little boy. 

    A few years later, on my way west to college, my plane put down in Seattle. I had about half-an-hour or so between planes. I spent 15 minutes or so on the phone with my sister, who lived there now. 

    Then, without thinking what I was doing, I dialed my hometown operator and said, "Information please." 

    Miraculously, I heard the small, clear voice I knew so well. 

    "Information." 

    I hadn''t planned this, but I heard myself saying, " Could you please tell me how to spell fix?" 

    There was a long pause. Then came the soft-spoken answer, "I guess your finger must have healed by now." 

    I laughed, "So it''s really still you," I said. "I wonder if you have any idea how much you meant to me during that time." 

    "I wonder," she said, "if you know how much your calls meant to me. I never had any children and I used to look forward to your calls." 

    I told her how often I had thought of her over the years and I asked if I could call her again when I came back to visit my sister. 

    "Please do," she said. "Just ask for Sally." 

    Three months later I was back in Seattle. A different voice answered,"Information." 

    I asked for Sally. "Are you a friend?" she said. 

    "Yes, a very old friend," I answered. 

    "I''m sorry to have to tell you this," she said. "Sally had been working part time the last few years because she was sick. She died five weeks ago." 

    Before I could hang up she said, "Wait a minute. Is your name Paul?" 

    "Yes." 

    "Well, Sally left a message for you. She wrote it down in case you called. Let me read it to you." The note said, "Tell him I still say there are other worlds to sing in. He''ll know what I mean." 

    I thanked her and hung up. I knew what Sally meant. 

    Never underestimate the impression you may make on others. Whose life have you touched today? 

    我小的時候，父親是在左鄰右舍中最早給家里裝上電話的人之一。我依然清晰地記得那個固定在墻上、擦得锃亮的老式電話機，發亮的聽筒掛在電話盒的一邊。那時我尚小，還夠不著電話，倒是常常在母親拿起它講話時，我在一邊聽得入迷。后來，我發現就在這只神奇的盒子里住著一位叫“櫻芙美心-葡麗絲”的神秘人，她簡直無所不知。她能答出任何人的電話號碼、報出準確的時間。我第一次直接與這“瓶中妖”的接觸是在母親到鄰居家串門的那一天。我在地下室的工具凳上玩的時候，錘子砸著了我的手指頭。當時痛極了，可是家里除我之外，別無他人，沒有人會同情我，似乎也就沒有理由哭泣。我吮著疼地鉆心的指頭在房間里四處亂走，不覺來到了樓梯口。 

    電話！我快步沖向客廳的腳凳，把它拖到了樓梯口，踩著腳凳、摘下了聽筒，將聽筒貼近我的耳邊。我對準頭上方的送話口說道，“櫻芙美心-葡麗絲。”聽筒里傳來一兩聲嘟嘟聲后，一個清晰、柔和的聲音便在我的耳畔響起。 

    “櫻芙美心。” 

    “我弄傷了手指……”我泣不成聲地朝著話筒哭喊，眼淚肆無忌憚地洶涌而出，我終于找到了一名聽眾。 

    “媽媽不在家嗎？”她問。 

    “家里只有我一個人！”我哭得更傷心了。 

    “流血了嗎？”那個聲音又說道。 

    “沒有，”我回答，“錘子砸到了我的手指頭，好疼啊！” 

    “你能打開冰箱嗎？”她問。我說可以。 

    “取下一小塊冰，然后敷在手指頭上，”那個聲音又說。 

    從那以后，不管有什么事，我都給“櫻芙美心-葡麗絲”打電話。我問她地理，她便告訴我費城在什么地方。她幫我做算術題。她告訴我前天逮住的那只寵物花栗鼠吃水果或堅果。后來，有一次我們的寵物金絲雀“裴鵜”死了，我又一次撥通了“櫻芙美心-葡麗絲”，告訴她這個令人傷心的消息。她靜靜地聽著，然后說了些大人常常安慰小孩子的話。但是，我并未得到寬慰。我問：“鳥兒的歌唱得那么好聽，不知給多少人家帶來了歡樂，可是為什么死的時候卻化為了蜷在籠底的一堆羽毛？”她一定感覺到了我深深的悲傷，因為她平靜地說：“保羅，永遠記住，它們還可以在別的世界里歌唱！”不知為什么，我感覺好多了。 

    一天，我再次來到了電話旁。 

    “櫻芙美心-葡麗絲。” 

    “櫻芙美心，”耳邊傳來了熟悉的聲音。 

    我問，“fix怎么拼寫？” 

    這一切都發生在太平洋西北部的一個小鎮上。到了我九歲那年，我們舉家遷移到了波士頓。我特別想念我的朋友。“櫻芙美心-葡麗絲”永遠屬于老家的那個老式木盒子，不知怎的，我從沒有試過放在客廳桌上的那個高高的、發亮的新電話。即使我到了十多歲的時候，那孩提時代的對話也從未從我的腦海中逝去。常常在我感到疑慮與困惑時，我會回想起那時擁有的那種寧靜的安全感。我感激她在那個少不更事的孩子身上付出的時間，我感激她的耐心、體諒和善良。 

    幾年后，在我西去上大學的路上，我所搭乘的飛機在西雅圖降落，離我的下一班飛機起飛有約莫半小時的時間。我給住在那里的姐姐打了約十五分鐘的電話。 

    爾后，還沒有意識到自己在做什么，我就撥通了家鄉小鎮的接線員，說，“櫻芙美心-葡麗絲”。 

    奇跡般地，我又聽到了那熟悉極了的清晰而又柔和的聲音。 

    “櫻芙美心”。 

    我原本沒有打算這么做，但我分明聽見自己說：“你能告訴我怎么拼寫fix嗎？” 

    一陣沉寂。接下來是一個柔和的聲音說道：“我想現在你的小手指頭一定愈合了吧。” 

    我笑了，“這么說，真是你了！”我說，“你知道嗎？在那個時候，你對我有多么重要。” 

    “我想，”她說，“你是否知道你的電話對我來說有多么重要，我沒有孩子，所以常常盼著你的電話。” 

    我告訴她，這些年我一直想念她。我問她我再回來看姐姐時是否還能打電話給她。 

    她欣然許諾：“當然啦！找薩莉就可以了！” 

    三個月后，我再次回到了西雅圖，一個不同的聲音接了電話，“櫻芙美心。” 

    我說我要找薩莉。她問：“你是她的朋友嗎？” 

    “是的，老朋友。”我說。 

    “我很難過不得不告訴你，”她說，“薩莉病了好長時間了，所以過去幾年來她一直做兼職。五個星期前她去世了。” 

    我就要掛斷電話前，她說：“等一等，你是保羅嗎？” 

    “是。” 

    “對了，薩莉給你留下了一張便條，她怕你萬一打電話來。我讀給你聽。”便條上寫著，“告訴他，我依然會說，還可以在別的世界里歌唱。他知道我的意思。” 

    我謝過她，掛上了電話。我明白薩莉的意思。

    永遠不要低估你留給別人的印象。今天你又走入誰的生活了呢？