It appears that besides being a collector of whatever is cheap and strikes my fancy, I am a sentimental collector.
Hence, the telephone.
It reminds me of my grandma.
Hers was a bit different. I do not think that the dialing portion on the one she had was plastic.
But, to hold that receiver in my hand? Oooo. THIS is a telephone.
It doesn't take pictures, it won't vibrate in my purse, it doesn't play a different tune depending on the caller.
No. It rings. And, one picks it up and says "Hello?"
If one talks on it for too long, it's quite possible that ones arm will grow numb and ones ear will hurt.
My grandma has been gone for 24 years.
But, yesterday I picked up my new old phone and called her.
I still know her number.
She didn't answer.
I'd like to think that she is getting ready to greet her son-in-law, my dad.
My grandma died of a heart attack shortly after my mom underwent a mastectomy.
I was recovering from pneumonia and pleuresy which had gone on for weeks.
It was a rough year, as I recall.
My mom had tried to reach her mom all day, but didn't get an answer.
Since she wasn't able to be out and about yet, my mom sent my dad over in the afternoon to check on her.
He found her lying dead on her bedroom floor.
Presently, I'm finding it comforting to think that grandma is picking up a package of Steenstra's Santa Claus cookies and putting on the coffee.
My dad will be there soon.