Dial 'M' for Memories

This is "The Princess Phone". It was the most captivating thing in my grandparents' home when I was younger. Never mind the cuckoo clock, the pink room, Hungry-Hungry Hippos; not even the organ in the basement or the swivel chair could compete for my affections. The Princess Phone was my favorite. It sat on the master bedroom night stand (on Grandma's side, if memory serves) and I thought it was the embodiment of elegance!

I was so in love with that phone, that I eventually boldly asked my grandmother if I could have it... when she died of course - I didn't expect he give up such a priceless item so easily! I was probably nine or ten years old at the time. My grandmother - being the genuine, practical woman she was - took my request quite seriously. She made note of it.

About five or so years ago, my grandparents moved into a care facility. Their belongings were whittled down to what would fit in their new, small apartment and the rest was given to family or donated to charity. My mother sent me a box of books, blankets, a few miscellaneous items, and The Princess Phone. I was shocked, to say the least, when I pulled it out of the box and realized that my tastes had changed. What was beautiful and super fancy at ten, was now tacky and cheap-looking. Plugging the phone in to try it out didn't help sway my new-found opinion either - it's ring was deafening and their was no volume control. So, the phone was put back in its box and had been there until earlier today.

A couple of years ago my grandfather died. I miss him so, so much. He was to me (and just about every other person who knew him) the best man I ever knew. My grandmother has handled herself with such grace since his passing and I've grown to admire her more than ever. While my grandparents have always been special to me, in recent years I have come to understand their importance in my life. So, when I was cleaning out a closet today and came across the box with The Princess Phone, I decided it was time to give it its due place in my home; on my night stand. Unplugged.

As I was polishing up The Princess Phone, I came across a little piece of paper taped to the back of it. A list of names for the phone's memory dial. The names were just as I would have expected; Dr. So and So, a couple of neighbors, their three children, and at number seven... Price.

Price was my grandmother's brother; Uncle Price to me. My grandmother had several brothers and my grandfather a few as well, but the only brother on speed dial was Price. The significance of this is that Price was gay and my grandparents had been, their whole lives, very dedicated to the LDS church. My mother had told me many times how my grandparents were very close to Price - and Price to them - despite their differences. I realized the truth of this as I held that tacky piece of plastic and was suddenly flooded with emotion. I fell in love with The Princess Phone all over again. Not for it's beauty this time, but for the meaning behind it. This phone was used to call Price.

Religion and cultural challenges were not enough to drive my grandparents and Uncle Price apart. Where tolerance perhaps ended, love began. It must have been a challenge for them, but they loved each other enough to put the challenges aside.

My own family is full of challenges. We are, each of us, quite different and have many religious and cultural views that at times seem impassable. I'm so grateful to my grandparents and Uncle Price for showing me how to breakdown those challenges.

When it seems that tolerances end, love can begin - that is the lesson I learned from The Princess Phone.