There it is, my new old phone and my old new phone. 1937 meets 2007. A meeting of two eras; circa the year my house was built and today.
I picked up the phone on eBay, trepidaciously because I’ve been burned on that particular free-for-all before. I bid on several but was always outbid at the last moment by literally a hundred dollars each time — so winning this one for less than half a c note was cause for worry. But surprise, it arrived intact. Once I puzzled over the bizarre wiring and a conversation with my phone installer stepfather, I wired it up to the wall and lo, communications, Plain Old Telephone style!
The ringer is really loud.
Of course, I am old enough to remember rotary dial phones, unlike many of you youngsters reading this; what I didn’t remember was how freakishly long it takes to dial a number. Especially long distance.
And it is very telling that one can just hook up a 70-year-old telephone to the 2008 network and it works. This is both evidence of a simple but brilliant invention; and an indictment of how little the telephone company has changed in more than a hundred years (while still charging us more and more and more).
I replicated the center number disc with my own number on it; turns out that my exchange is properly “BIttersweet 8”. I love that.
I have an irrational, bizarre urge to lay on the living room floor, paint my nails, and yak on the phone with Ethel.
There it is, my new old phone and my old new phone. 1937 meets 2007. A meeting of two eras; circa the year my house was built and today.
