Operator? Operator?

Once, when living in a small, Central American country, we got permission to go inside an abandoned bank.

Located in a rather remote mountain town, it had belonged to a family that no longer ran the bank and ceased doing business, for whatever reasons. As strange as it seemed, everything inside still remained as it did on the day it closed----desks, cabinets, chairs, and so on. Yet the building was shuttered tight and filled with dust.

A bat zoomed down from the ceiling and flew close to my head. I let out a loud scream and ducked, covering my head with my arms.

An old-fashioned telephone hung on a wall. When asked, a member of the family who owned the bank said I could have the phone. What a thrill that was!

It's been decades since that day. The old telephone made it by ship to the United States when we moved back and now it hangs on our dining room wall.

That phone would, no doubt, have many stories to tell. Made in the USA, it certainly is well-traveled. An authentic antique, it always brings back memories of our experiences in Central America.

Wish I could hear it go brrrrrrrring, brrrrrrrring.