Dial A Story

I told this story at work today, so I figured I'd tell you too. :)

Please bear in mind I am not old, though it's about to sound that way.

When I was growing up, we had an old (ugly) black rotary phone that hung on the wall of the kitchen. It was the only phone in the whole house. Thank goodness cordless phones came out before I hit the drama of adolescence. We all might have killed each other if those conversations had taken place in the center of living.

The phone had a long cord - that could reach the kitchen table, the living room chair, or in moments of REAL privacy, the utility room step.

My mom wasn't really a talker on the phone...most of the time. I mean she did talk on it every day, but not for hours and hours. She did have two friends, though, that she only talked to a couple of times each year. And everyone knew, if one of their names came out of her mouth when she picked up the phone, the next two hours were gone.

I didn't really have phone privileges as a kid...I mean, who did I need to call? However, there was the dial-a-story. I don't remember who sponsored it, but it was a local call that played a kid's devotional story. I loved calling the dial-a-story.

One day I hadn't gotten around to calling it before one of those two-hour-chat ladies called my mom. About an hour into the call, I started getting rather impatient, but Mom just waved me away (as she should have) because this was her long lost friend on the phone!

Finally I could take it no more. I dragged a kitchen chair over to the phone, climbed up on it and clamped down the lever to disconnect the call. Then I calmly stuck my head around the side of the cabinet to find the dial-a-story number and started dialing.

Mom appeared in the doorway, looking very puzzled.

"What are you doing?"

"It's TIME to call the dial a story!!"

Want to guess who won that one? :)