It was 1946. Hazard, Kenutcky.
Modern communication included the telephone and something called long distance. I remember my mother making a long distance call to her sister. It went something like this:
"Number please."
"I want to make a long distance call."
"One moment please." Pop, click, sizzle.
"Long distance."
"I'd like to make a call to Nashville, Tennessee."
"Will that be person to person?"
"No, station to station. The number there is 92953."
"One moment please." Sizzle, click, click. Time passes.
"I'll ring you when I get an open line."
"Thank you."
About 45 minutes later the phone rings, two shorts and a long.
"Hello."
"I have your party in Nashville on the line. Go ahead please."
"Thank you operator. Eloise? Meredith. How are you?"
My mother died 25 years ago. Aunt Eloise is in a nursing home, unaware of who she is, but I remember her saying just a year before she started downhill, "I still miss those long distance calls from Meredith."
It's funny what you think of this time of year.
Howard