Sticks and stones and telephones
Nicknames can be fitting. Often a short guy's moniker is "Shorty" or "Nub" and a tall guy can be "Slats" or "Long." A red head is "Red" and a southpaw becomes "Lefty." It's hard to understand, though, why Robert is "Bob," William is "Bill," or John becomes "Jack." Even tougher is getting "Rick" or "Dick" out of Richard. Americans have a penchant for calling kids "Buddy" while young and it sticks with them for life. "Bud" might really be Henry or Roger. Of course Henry would be "Hank" and Roger could become "Skip." Our dog, the king of the household, is named "Nick." His name is the same as his nickname. That would be handy. The late Wharton Hoch said he named his boys like mules, "Dick," "Bob," "Jim," and "Bill." Unfortunately I was named after my father, Otto, and fortunately I go by my middle name which is William, or "Bill." While attending KU I learned to answer to "Otto" but while I was in the Army they called me "Squire." That's enough for nick names.
Cell phones that transmit pictures, give you the weather, record messages, and let you know another call is waiting are modern miracles. They're a long step from the old crank phone which hung on the wall during our childhood. But that hand cranker was more awesome than today's electronic marvels. We aren't amazed by the GPS in our car which gives us the speed, elevation, direction of travel, time of day, and location on the earth. We've become accustomed to it. We aren't in awe of the television which transmits color pictures instantaneously from with each other and have voice actuated capability. The cell phone in our car works that way, "no hands," voice actuated, and some big eye in the sky keeps track of where you are at all times. Big brother, no less. But none of those methods of communication can compare with our old wooden hand crank phone which hung on the wall. It was a miracle, a mystery. We didn't understand how it operated but were thankful it did. We had a number, but none knew or used it. Mrs. Crawford was the switchboard operator. She'd answer "number please" but hear a family name and would put the call through, over the wires, no numbers needed. She knew where folks were and would forward calls to that place. That service was without extra charge. Not everybody had a phone. Our Uncle Bill didn't, even though he could well afford such a device. He didn't want one. When he got a call, long distance, it would come to our telephone and I'd be dispatched to run the block to Uncle Bill's house and urgently summon him to the phone. It was "long distance" so there was no delay. Uncle Bill would grab his false teeth, wrapped in a red bandanna, out of his hip pocket and run back while installing the dentures. After the conversation was over, and the dust settled, he'd give me a nickel.
A nickel was big money in those days.
— BILL MEYER
