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Friday, June 10, 2005

Miss Daisy Makes a Phone Call 

I received a phone message from my 87 year old, deeply southern grandmother that I should save and send off to the Library of Congress. It really is a cultural relic that ought to be preserved for posterity. Apparently an old school friend is trying to get in touch with me and called her phone number, which she has had for the past 50 years. The phone is being forwarded to a rehabilitative facility where she is convalescing from a broken hip and where her African American maid, Debbie, has also moved in to care for her. My grandmother called me to relay the message and the transcript of her message went something like,

"Hello! An old school friend of yours called and she's trying to reach you. Here's her numb-ah. Well, I thought I had it here. Debbie, now where is that numb-ah? I thought I asked you to give it to me!"

"Oh, no you didn't, Mz. Ferrell! You didn't ask me no such thing."

"I'm sure I did! I know I asked you for that numb-ah. Then help me find that numbah."

Adamantly, "Uh-uh, no ma'am. You did not ask me to give it to you." Then with a lot of exasperated sass, "Now what have you gone and done with that number, Mz. Ferrell! I swear!"

The sound of paper rustling and objects being thrown about.

"Well, have you found it?"

"No, I haven't! I have no idea where you have gone and put it!!" More clucking and muttering, a lot more yelling back and forth, and several of Debbie's drawn out 'Mmm-mmmms.' The repartee goes on for about 5 for minutes until the number is located at last.

I was laughing about the conversation with my mom and she said, "I'm so glad that she has Debbie. It's obvious that these kind of exchanges are very stimulating to her."

Comments:
I love that post so much!

-M
 
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