I don’t mean Santa Claus and just in case you were wondering, those bears are *not* on my front lawn. They’re down in the neighborhood on the other side of Haisley and they will be there until about the end of February, at which time they’ll be replaced by bunnies or lambs or chicks. I forget which.

Brrrrrrinnnngggggg! It was Monday afternoon and the ringer on the land line jolted me out of my seat. Say what? The land line has been out for at least a week, right? Or so I thought. “Is Mr. Courtois there? This is so-and-so and I’m returning his call about such-and-such gig at the church.” Church? Say what? Not likely. There is another Courtois family in town though. The GG is not related to them and we don’t know them but they are involved in one of the local Catholic churches. I don’t remember how I know that but I do. I thanked him for letting me know my telephone was working again and pointed him off toward the *other* Courtois family.

15 minutes later, DING-DONG! It was the Jolly Green Phone Giant at the door in a pair of big rubber galoshes. I had totally forgotten that the phone company was supposed to check our phone on Monday. I explained that the phone had been out but now it didn’t seem to be and I didn’t know what was going on. He really was a jolly sort of guy (Comcast, take note!) and he galumphed around to the back of the Landfill to check the box. Over the ice and all. His diagnosis was that the box and wires to the pole were so old and rusty that they really needed to be replaced and that was likely why the phone had been out or at least intermittently out. I’d sure like to know what is *not* old and rusty around here! He was not equipped to replace the box and wires on this trip but he said he would put in an order and one of these days, the phone company would come out and replace them and we didn’t have to pay anything or even be here for that.

It looks like the Landfill land line will continue on indefinitely. The GB Fins have been without a land line for quite a few years and, for a few minutes, Webmomster had me thinking about dumping ours. But then Lizard Breath made an irresistible plea to keep the phone number she’s had her whole life. At least until she drove off into the sunset. And I can understand that argument. When I dial The Commander’s number these days, I usually just flip through my phone contacts and press the button for “The Commander,” but I am dialing the telephone number that my parents had before I was born half a century ago or thereabouts. In those days, it was only necessary to dial five digits to make a local call in our rustic little Yooper outpost. I can still remember my grade school best friend Laurie’s phone. Somehow, I can’t remember the numbers for the bank (is Jack Finlayson there?) or Grandma’s house, the other two numbers I called frequently when I was a kid. I could probably look up the bank number but I don’t know how to look up Grandma’s.

On top of all that, there is an unusual little twist in the history of the Landfill land line here on the Planet Ann Arbor. Originally, it belonged to The Marquis and I vaguely remember having to do a little fast talking — something I’m not very good at 🙂 — to get it changed over to my name. I’m keeping it for now.

So, cousins. Or Commander. Do any of y’all remember Grandma’s phone number? Hmmm? Others, whose numbers do y’all remember from when y’all were kids?

This entry was posted on Wednesday, December 12th, 2007 at 7:23 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.