Nothing Short of Astounding

Today I got up early and went in to work. I said that I would do an early transport. I needed to take a resident to a surgical center for a minor procedure. Foggy as all get out, I made my way to the home and got the van started. I loaded the woman in it, grabbed the paperwork, and headed out.
Almost missing the turn in the thick fog, I did manage to find the place after all. I was told that the woman’s daughter in law would meet us there to sign papers, etc. However, when we arrived, she was nowhere to be found. The staff was getting a little antsy, so I called the nurses station at the home and asked for the phone number of the daughter in law. They gave me a local, Wichita number.
I called that number on my cell. The ring sounded a little funny to me. After about four rings, a man answered the phone and identified himself as the son of the woman I had at the surgical center. I asked him if he or his wife were about at the surgery center so they could sign papers, thinking that the foggy weather may have caused them to be late.
He said he was nowhere close to the center and couldn’t help me. “I’m in the U K,” he said. Of course, he meant that he was in Great Britain. Hence the funny-sounding ring.
I processed that information as quickly as my too-early-to-get-up brain could, and while I was speechlessly processing, I managed to ask him if I could get his wife’s phone number and call her to ask where she might be. He said he would call her for me, and let me know what was going on.
A couple of minutes later, my phone rang. It was him. He said she was late, but would be there in a few minutes. I thanked him profusely and we hung up. She indeed showed up a few minutes later.
Now, you may ask me why I’m writing this. I’ve blogged about telephones and technology before. I grew up in the era of dialing “0” and getting a local operator in the same community as where I was living and having her make a long distance call for me. Sometimes we had the phone number…sometimes we only had a name and city. And the cost of the call was enough that we watched the minutes on a clock and didn’t talk too long. Local numbers were only four digits in length. Party lines were commmonplace. Area codes were not invented yet (nor were zip codes).
This is pure magic to me…this idea that I can have a dial tone on my hip, access it, dial a local number, and find that other telephone across an ocean in a foreign country. I can ring that phone and carry on a conversation with that person. And he can do the same with me. Do you have a clue of the technology and gee-whiz gadgets that must all work just right in order for this to happen? It’s nothing short of an incredible, astounding feat.
I normally don’t need international calling. But I have a newly-found appreciation for the fee I pay each month to help maintain this technological marvel we call the telephone. I know I gripe and complain when it drops calls or I’m in a dead zone. And that, I think, is something that needs to be addressed. “We can go to the moon…why can’t I have a phone conversation without it dropping my call?”
Next time you use your phone to talk, text, tweet, or browse, appreciate what you are holding in hour hand. I will.