Pay Phone
Hello, friends! Can’t believe it’s been two months since I’ve had the time or energy to create another blog post. We’ve all been through so much, and it’s not over yet. What with Covid and the crises, both financial and political, we are all exhausted.
So it’s time for a little art therapy! What could be a better antidote to the crazy than to unite us all in shared memories of the past. Hopefully this little painting of a pay phone will take your mind down memory lane and fill it with the laughter and excitement, pleasure and pain of yesteryear.
This month I’m taking you downtown to our little Fort Bragg city center. I’ve only lived here for about four years, so I barely qualify calling myself a local. But I have really come to love this place I now call home.
This little town has so much spirit! My son came home from his internship at the local graphic design studio, Braggadoon, with a sticker for his car that reads something like: You don’t choose the coast. The coast chooses you. What?
It takes a certain character to be able to make it here on the coast. This community is one of survivors. We’ve all had to withstand the moods of the seasons, the challenges of the economy, and the diminished business opportunities. Carving out a life on the coast is different than swinging by for a weekend visit.
I was just talking with a local who ran an inn on the coast for over 20 years, and she said something about this very idea. She said I qualified as a local if I still loved living here after four years. Apparently not everyone can manage it.
Our little town may be low on what some may call amenities or necessities, but we have forbearance and heart. Once the sea air seeps into your lungs, you’re hooked. Right about now I’m missing the parades, crab fests, art festivals. Seems like we like to celebrate just about anything.
I live close enough to the town center that before Covid we often were blessed with the sounds, not only of the sea and the Skunk train, and the church bells, but also of people making happy noise. We’d look up from our tasks and say, “What’s going on?” We could stroll a couple of blocks and see the cheerleaders and little league and footballers parading through the street. Maybe it was the truck parade or the classic car enthusiasts or the Christmas tree lighting.
Those days will return. We are survivors. And I don’t mean just us here in Fort Bragg. I mean collectively, as a nation. We’ll get through this.
The reading by Tom Hiddleston brings comfort to my soul. I find this poem to encapsulate the spirit of our little town and its stalwart inhabitants.
Where does the heart of a town lie? Would you think a pay phone could be the symbol of that? What memories do you have of a pay phone? Did your mother ever ask you to place a dime in your shoe so that you could be sure to call her.
While typing that, I’m showing my age, I know. However, I do think that in spite of our modern technology and constant attachment to our cell phones, the collective memory still exists. Do not our modern lives surround a phone?
In the heart of our village is a charming little coffee shop by the name of Headlands. It a place where, pre-Covid, people loved to stop in for their morning cup of joe. The place was usually teeming with locals meeting to chat or tourists eager to feel the vibe.
Next door to the coffee shop is our local frame shop. Here you not only can find the expert advice and professional talent to frame any type of art, you’ll also find classy gifts and cards for any occasion.
But between the frame shop and the coffee shop is the old pay phone. I have no idea how long it has been there or how many souls it has rescued, trysts it has set up, or business ventures it has launched. I do know, however, that the pay phone, in and of itself, has enough character to inspire an artist.
Wondering who left his heart here and who went AWOL.
Remember when 5, 10, 25 cents were useful? Remember collect calls? Can you hear the clink as the dime drops? Do you remember the coolness of the metal in the coin slot?
Who’s interested in the stickers or graffiti on an old pay phone anyway? I can only guess you’ve never really needed one, if you don’t know. Lol.
“The news of life is carried via telephone. A baby’s birth, a couple engaged, a tragic car accident on a late night highway - most milestones of the human journey, good or bad, are foreshadowed by the sound of a ringing.”
Do I know why I wanted to paint this old pay phone? Not really. It just called to something deep within me. I hope that in this challenging time, my painting will call to you as well. Maybe instead of hiding a dime in our shoe, these days we need to be throwing our dime into a wishing well.
I know that I am certainly wishing you well. May you be blessed in this new year. May you find comfort in a cup of joe, a kind word, or a phone call with a wonderful, cherished, old friend.
