The Telephone

The Telephone

Uncle Franz was eccentric and when he passed away at age ninety, I was named the executor of his estate, meaning I had to clean out his attic of his house where he had lived after coming home from two years in the war.  Refusing to abandon his house after Edith passed away nearly twenty years ago, Uncle Franz became a recluse, collecting all sorts of discarded junk until his house was filled with a wide assortment of useless keepsakes and rusty antiques that no longer had a practical use.  He would remark with a sardonic, “All of my things are just like me, abandoned and discarded.” I felt his desire to be left alone was much stronger than his need for any kind of company, especially anyone he was related by marriage or blood.  

His only real contact to this world since Great Aunt Edit passed was Eddie who would come over to play spades every Tuesday afternoon.  Eddie was a long time associate from Uncle Franz’s days selling insurance door to door. He was sweeping off the porch on the Saturday morning when I finally managed to talk myself into doing my duty as executor of Uncle Franz’s estate.

“Hey Russell.”He waved still holding the broom.  The front porch was dilapidated and the roof sagged in the middle.  The paint on the house was peeling and chipping, because Uncle Franz hadn’t bothered painting his house for nearly forty years.

“Eddie, long time no see.” I hustled up the four stairs to the porch aware if I paused on a step, it would more than likely give way under my weight, not that I was heavy or anything.  

“Shame he’s gone.  I miss him.” Eddie’s sad puppy dog face made me pause before running in the door to make short work of my duty. 

“I’m sorry.” I patted him on the back and then walked into the musty room where Uncle Franz spent most of his final days in front of his old television.  

“I boxed up some of his stuff.” Eddie followed me into the front room.  There were boxes with the tops still open filled to overflowing capacity in every available space.

“I got some movers coming in a couple of hours.” I scratched the back of my neck unable to believe how much stuff there was.  Walking the narrow path to the stairs and kitchen tucked in the back of the house, I saw more of the same. “You certainly did a lot of work.”

“Guys like me ain’t got nothing but time on our hands.” His voice was sad and distant. “I never made it to the attic on account of my back and all.”

I nodded, “I’ll take care of it.”

“He kept a lot of his memories up there.” His eyes rolled to the top of his sockets. 

“I’ll get them ready to go.” I shrugged.

“No...that ain’t what I mean.” He shook his head, “Keep in mind, Russell, this was who he was.  He answered the call of his country and came home to folks who were too busy to pay him much mind.  Got himself a bronze star, but he was just Franz Schahler, son of that crazy German who fought for the Kaiser during the Great War.  Ya know, when he went over there, he probably saw some of his kin that stayed in Fatherland.” 

I had heard stories about his father, the clockmaker who had fought for Germany during the Great War, but those times seemed so distant and foriegn to me.  Even his stories about parachuting into France during D-Day seemed like a fairy tale to me, one he told me when he came over to babysit me when I was young.  His stories were exciting and filled with action, but dad told me Uncle Franz was prone to exaggeration and tall tales. 

Dad.  He passed away about ten years ago before my children were born.  He had come to my wedding to Marsha. It is one of my most treasured memories, but then a month later we got into an argument about some real estate investment.  He had been an agent since he graduated college and he felt I was a fool for purchasing this property for development. We just never seemed to agree about things that mattered it seemed, but then a month later mom came home and found him slumped over in his desk chair at his home office. My last words to him were spoken in anger.  Words I could not take back.  

In the dark dingy attic was an old work bench where Uncle Franz would do his tinkering, because like his father, he relished working with his hands creating something that had not existed before.  It was a gift that had skipped me as I could find no satisfaction in such undertakings. But as I stumbled through the scattered assortment of discarded material on the floor, I wondered if any of these things were of any value to Uncle Franz or if they served as anchors of his life.  Life is uncertain, but the things we own, though holding little or no real value, act as anchors in our lives, things that we can hold and feel, offering comfort that while the world is spinning out of control, these things occupy a place and purpose in our lives, grounding us from the uncertainty just beyond our door.  I bend over and pick you some kind of metal object with wires sticking out of it like the snakes of Medusa and wonder what this object was once part of and if it served a functionality when it was in place. The tools on the top of his workbench were rusty beyond serviceability or so it seemed, but when I took one of the tools in my hand, I could feel the cold metal that seemed to spark something I had never felt before, a sense of vitality and vigor.  

As I looked around the attic, I felt like I was trespassing on sacred ground.  Licking my lips and making a great effort to swallow, I took a deep breath of the musty air and knew that I would be violating this sanctuary, placing these items in boxes of various shapes and sizes to be taken to Goodwill for someone else to possess.  Tools were made to make our lives easier, so we could do things that without them, would take much more effort.

“Are you doing alright?” Eddie popped his head up through the opening in the floor accessed by a solitary ladder.

“Fine.” I tried not to sound startled by his sudden appearance.

“Wow, would you look at this place.” His head was on a swivel.  

“Yeah, more work than I first thought.” I whistled. 

“He sure loved coming up here.” Eddie emerged through the opening.

“It seems that way.” I nodded.

“If these walls could talk.” He put his hands in his pockets and rocked on his heels.

“I’m sure there’d be quite a story.” I chuckled at the mere thought of it. 

“Them shelves behind you is where he would put his creations as he called them.” Eddie pointed to the shelves behind the workbench where I was standing.  Sure enough, the shelving unit held even more mysterious junk. I had my work cut out for me that was sure.

“Do ya need a hand?” He asked.

Looking around, I shook my head, “Not really.”

“Then I best be going.” He coughed.

“Thanks for all you’ve done.” I said as he got on the ladder.

“Don’t mention it.  My pleasure.” He waved as he descended on the ladder leaving me alone once again.  

It was then that I saw it, the telephone, an old rotary with the receiver placed in the cradle, beige with matching cord.  The cable was still hooked into the phone and when I pulled it off the shelf, it jerked from my hands and it fell to the floor.  Strange, the cord is still attached, but to what? I picked it up off the floor and heard a noise. A dial tone? How could it be?  All of the gas and electricity had been shut off on my request last week, but this phone still had a dial tone. I picked up the receiver and put it to my ear.  The buzzing of the old dial tone was strong and uninterrupted. Picking up the rest of the unit, I pushed down on buttons on the cradle and there was a click. What happened next, I have trouble even admitting to myself.

“Hello?  Number please.” It was a voice, a human voice and I gasped when I heard it, my mouth fell open.

“Hello.” I said hoarsely.

“Number please.” The voice requested again.

“I’m not sure…” I managed to say.

“Well, sir, without a number, how am I supposed to connect you?” There was a trace of irritation in her voice. 

“I’m trying to get ahold of my Uncle Franz.” I said knowing that this would be impossible, but then she asked for his name and as if in a trance, I spoke his name.  

“Just a second, sir and I will connect you.” She said and a short buzz followed as I kept the receiver pressed to my ear.

“Hall-low.” It was my uncle’s voice, there was no mistaking it. 

“Uncle Franz?” I was startled beyond words.

“Russell?  Oh good, you have found the phone.” His voice was cheery just as I remembered it. 

“Yes, yes, I have.” I shook my head wondering if I was dreaming. 

“Ah good boy.  Now listen, you must be careful with that thing.” He explained and I remember how it had fallen from the shelf to the floor. “This is the phone I made to talk to my father. Now, I no longer need it, because he is standing right here next to me. Ha-ha.” His laugh made me smile for a moment.

“Is...is...is my father there?” I could not believe I had the nerve to ask.

“Yes, Carl is right here.  And Edith.” He said with enthusiasm, “We were just getting ready to play cards.  Wish you could join us.” 

“I suppose I will soon enough.” I could feel a lump forming in my throat.

“No hurry, no hurry.  Time is not a thing up here much to the chagrin of my father.  But he is happy because he usually wins.” More laughter and this made my heart feel suddenly very heavy.  

“Can I speak to him...Carl...my father?” I asked wiping a tear or two from my eyes.

“Sure, sure.  Carl, your son wants a word.” I heard him call out to my father.

“Russell?  Is that you?” Years evaporated as he sounded the same as he did back then.  

“Yes dad.” I closed my eyes.

“You tell your mother not to worry about me, eh?” He demanded, “I’m fine.”

“Yes dad.” I managed knowing that I would be better not to mention this to her, because she had spent the last ten years pining for him as she said he was the only one for her.  

“Did you buy that land?” He asked fishing for an answer.

“Yes we did.” I sighed.

“And what happened?” 

“We sold it for a loss.” I admitted.

“Knew it.” There was smug satisfaction in his voice.

“Yes you did.” I was nearly sobbing.

“It’s alright.” He assured me.

“Dad...dad…”

“What?”

“I love you…” I said in order to have the closure I longed for.

“I love you, too.  I have been watching over you since I got here and I know one day you will be sitting here with us, but until then, I want you to know, you are my son and I am very proud of you.” The phone clicked and the dial tone returned.

The phone fell from my hands and hit the floor this time the unit came apart scattering into a hundred pieces.  I would never be able to repair it as I bent down to look at the damage.  

I was still packing things in the attic into boxes when the movers arrived.  There were three of them all dressed alike and one of them looked around and whistled, “Man look at all of this junk.”  

Junk?  Is that all that’s left of a lifetime?  I did not correct him. There was a box in the attic where I had collected all of the pieces of the telephone.