THE TELEPHONE

RRRRRRRRRing. . . Ring. . . Ring

"That is our ring, I'll get it."

Unless you grew up back when telephones had manual cranks or out in the country where party lines were still common in the 1960's and 1970's, you probably don't know what "our ring" refers to. A party line is a single circuit connecting two or more telephone users with the exchange. Some party lines had four users while others had eight. When one phone rang, all the phones rang. Each individual user was assigned different kind ring, a code consisting of long rings, "longs", combined with short rings, "shorts".

I was fortunate enough to grow up in the country. My home was connected to an eight-party line. Four-party lines and even private lines were available, but they cost more and my family just couldn't afford to waste hard-earned money on such frills. The only real inconveniences were having to wait your turn to make a call and the possibility of having your conversation overheard by someone else on the line. Party lines did have their own unique etiquette. For example, if someone had to make an emergency call, nobody would refuse to surrender the line. Also, the eavesdropping situation was understood by all, so no truly private conversations were expected. Those who couldn't deal with that reality simply paid the two or three dollars per month required to get a private line.

Our ring was a long and two shorts. Every time the phone started ringing, we would stop whatever we were doing and listen to see if it was our ring before making any attempt to answer. If a short came first, we could immediately tune it out. But if a long came first, we had to wait to hear what followed. It was always kind of disappointing for me when that initial long was not followed by anything. Even worse, was a long followed by a single short. Sometimes I would make a break for the phone anticipating that second short. When it didn't happen, I would have to stop in my tracks. The disappointment I felt was on a low conscious maybe even unconscious level. I don't know if I was even aware of it back then. Upon reflection, though, I know it was real. It was a kind of rejection every time the phone rang that long or long and short. I knew that somebody wanted to communicate with somebody else. But that somebody else was not me. It was almost me, one more short and it could have been me, but it wasn't.

On those occasions that the phone did deliver that second short, I was victorious. I was the winner. There were seven other families connected to the line, but I was the one who got to answer. That sense of victory was not regesterd on a conscious level every time. Upon reflection, I believe that it was there.

When you call someone by name, you do the same thing. They pay attention. It is their "ring." A little personal attention can work wonders.