Do you ever get to a point when you dread to hear the phone ringing? Do you ever just jump out of your skin, surprised by a ringing phone that has dragged you out a deep sleep, shattering your nerves and rocking your world? It seems like so many people want to do business with me in my own home that I end up not wanting to talk to any of them. I know that it’s not the fault of the people calling because they are just trying to put bread on the table, but I don’t want to talk to them. By the time I’ve put in a full day, I don’t want to talk to anyone selling anything. In fact, I like buying things on-line–plane tickets, books, dishes, clothing–because I don’t have to talk to anyone, at all. Yet the calls from insurance companies, credit card companies, and a host of others ring my phone a few times a night. I’ve put my phone numbers on federal “no-call” lists, but that doesn’t keep companies with whom I already do business from calling. If they want something, I much prefer an e-mail. There is something absolutely jarring about a ringing phone at 9 p.m. at night when all I really want is peace and quiet. Back in the olden days when we all only had one phone which used to hang on the kitchen wall, an analog set that had only one function–making phone calls, we had no idea who was calling. It was always a mystery when the phone rang, which, of course, raised your level of anxiety when your phone rang in the evening. The invention of caller i.d. was a huge step forward for screening calls, and I’m sure it was invented by someone who hated getting calls from telemarketers. Now, I check every call I get, and I often let the automated answering machine get the call when I don’t recognize the caller or the caller i.d. cannot tell who it is. Screening calls is a huge way of avoiding an unwanted conversation with an overzealous marketing person. I hate being rude on the phone, so I would often sit there and listen to their deal. Actually, I don’t do that anymore. I politely say good-bye and hang-up regardless of what they say. I don’t do business on the phone. A ringing phone at some strange hour of the night is still a huge cause for concern and anxiety–something may be wrong. On the other hand, a call from a child is always a welcome thing to receive. To know that they are alright, that they are coming home, that they love you. Today, there are almost as many ring tones as there are mobile phones, but I’m old fashioned and don’t want some pop song to play every time I have a call. In fact, sometimes it’s just better to leave it on vibrate so you know you are getting a call, but no one else does. The old fashioned ringing phone is a symbol of a by-gone era that was at once simpler and more complicated. You had one phone, which was simpler, and you had one phone, which was more complicated. That only fashioned ring harkens to a time to which we will never return, but I have no problem with that. The past is not golden because it was better, it was golden because we will never be able to return to it. A ringing phone means and signifies many things, and churns up a series of mixed emotions in my gut that makes me think of other places, other times, other people, but more than anything, a ringing phone always makes me think of new and different, maybe strange, possibilities.