If I awoke from being in a coma for 20 years -- like in a 1980s soap opera or modern-day Nicholas Sparks film -- I can take solace in the fact that there is at least one thing that will not have changed. The apocalypse, a dystopian society or an asteroid to wipe out civilization could come, and yet my hometown would still have the "Time and Temp" number.
Anyone younger than the age of 40 years may think I'm fibbing, but when I was a kid, there was a local telephone number one could call and a pleasant-sounding lady's recorded voice would state the current date, time and outside temperature. The service, cleverly titled "Time and Temp," was "Alexa" before Google came on the scene. She was our "Agnes" -- some nice country gal who kindly broke the bad news that it was Thursday, July 21st at 10:46 a.m., and it was 104 degrees and rising.
But the real surprise? The number still works. It's true. I tried it twice in disbelief. I'm not even sure what compelled me to call, but I came across the number recently while clearing out paperwork, and I couldn't help myself.
Who might pick up the phone? The nursing home? A drug dealer? I had no idea. I dialed and waited.
The phone line connected, and an advertisement played first -- a trailer about a healthcare program in town -- like the opening act. Then, sure enough, Agnes took the stage, announcing information I pretty much already knew. This might be the greatest thing ever!
Or perhaps I'm easily fascinated. Many seemingly ordinary things captivate me:
1. The smell of puppy breath, freshly-turned dirt, spring rains and cut grass.
2. Perusing through pinking shears, mismatched buttons and other mysteries in my mother's sewing box.
3. Saying the words "pinking shears."
4. Finding typographical errors and poor grammar in solicitations (like putting your worst foot forward on a first date -- c'mon, folks!).
5. Wearing my mother's and grandmother's jewelry.
6. The way my 20-year-old coffee mug fit perfectly in my hand.
7. How difficult it was to find a proper successor when I broke my perfectly fitting coffee mug.
8. A row of colorful cowboy boots.
9. Any conversation which includes the words "dreckly" and "yuns."
10. Seeing the face of a client from California coming to my office and finding me barefoot. (And taking my photograph as her "Arkansas lawyer.")
11. Hearing people claim they are bored.
12. The nature of the SPAM emails and text messages I receive. (I'm either much healthier or more criminal than I thought myself to be.)
13. Knowing I wouldn't take a million dollars for Trapper John.
14. Knowing Trapper John wouldn't want someone to offer me a million dollars, just in case.
15. Realizing that most of life is ordinary, and every moment is worthy of fascination.
16. Taking 40 years to understand what Agnes has been saying all along -- our Time is Temp-orary. Unless you're stuck in a Nicholas Sparks novel. Then, it goes on forever.