Caleb and the Bakelite phone

by Eleanor Lippman

My son Rob and his family were living in an interesting house in Riverside, California; an old house that appeared to have been improved, endlessly remodeled, and added to over the years. The small back yard had a swimming pool which was unusual in that neighborhood. Obviously, the kitchen had been remodeled and enlarged probably more than once to make it more modern and user friendly. Unchanged was the front of the house because an enormous tree dominated the front yard and prevented any expansion in that direction.

One curious aspect in the kitchen area was a small, low desk-like area between two kitchen cabinets. A telephone jack was on its wall so it was actually intended be used as a desk. With their son Luke just learning to walk and exploring everything in his path, it wasn’t practical to plug a modern telephone into that jack as the desk was just low enough for their toddler to get his hands on anything sitting on the desk and as kids do, pull things on to the floor. He would either damage a phone or leave the hand piece and the phone body separated, making the phone go “live” with the possibility of the adults not being aware their phone would be unable to take incoming calls. To get around that problem, Rob acquired a very old black, and very heavy Bakelite rotary dial telephone, one that a toddler could not easily disturb. That old Bakelite telephone was their communication with the outside world.

Amy and my grandson, Jaylin, came from Las Vegas to visit us. It was during the summer and very hot, of course it was better to spend the day at Rob’s house so young Jaylin could swim in the pool than with me, Grandma, living in a boring house with no swimming pool and nothing to do. So, Amy and Jaylin invited Jaylin’s friend, Caleb, join them so the boys could play together all day.

As afternoon began turning into early evening, we adults sat around the pool and decided to order a pizza delivery for dinner and, of course, we invited Caleb to join us.

“Well,” he said happy for the invitation, “I have to ask my mother” which was just what we hoped to hear him say.

Rob told him that the telephone was on the desk in the kitchen and Caleb went into the house to call his mother.

After what seemed to me to be him taking a very long time to talk to his mother, I found Caleb standing by the phone with the saddest look on his face.

“Oh, Caleb,” I responded, “Don’t you remember your phone number?”

“I do.” he said. “Of course I do.”

He pointed to the antique black Bakelite telephone. “I know you are supposed to put your finger in one of the little holes but I don’t know what to do afterwards.” He had never seen a rotary dial telephone before in his life.

Caleb’s response reminds me when cellular telephones became popular, of elderly grandparents trying to deal with communicating with their children and grandchildren. Some things in life never change.

New, different, how does this darn thing work?  Maybe also, old, different, how does this darn thing work?