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That was the phone I learned to play the 1812 Overture on... good times.

(From Achewood. Click on the thumbnail for full sized jilapidation!)

I've likened Achewood to jazz music before, and it comes out here. In the phone interference from Ray's old cordless, Waterbury's secret mission crosses lines with the relationship between Ray and Roast beef. Ray's the melody line, but two different soloists doing improvs around it slide around his phone. The art connects and cross connects, and makes something different than a strip on either one would be.

I understand about the phone. When I went off to College in 1986, I bought a cheap Radio Shack phone -- not a cordless. Back then, those were pricy -- but it had like twelve autodial buttons on it. My roommate of the time told me it'd never last. It was just cheap junk. My parents still had their rotary phone with real bells inside -- the few times electronic phones had entered our lives, they'd proven to be shoddy and untrustworthy.

I finally retired that Radio Shack phone in 1998, after a year in my first apartment right here in town. It was falling apart, the number pad driven into the unit at a weird angle, but it was still hard to give it up. That phone had seen me through College, through Boston, through Ithaca (twice), through Seattle, through returning to Maine and finally into New Hampshire. I had history with that phone. I still own it, piled up in the back room along with a bunch of other useless junk.

But you probably don't care about that, do you?


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I know the feeling. I still have the Radio Shack calculator I bought back in 1985 for high school chemistry. The case is barely holding together, but the calculator itself still works fine and does almost everything I need from a calculator. I've bought other "backup" calculators since then, but I still use that two decade old one for a lot.

I also have the long lived calculator. My faithful and trust HP 15C, with the wonky reverse polish notation. I don't use it that much anymore, but it is most definitely cherished, treasured and treated to new batteries on occasion.

When I moved out of residence into my own apartment, my mother gave me an old phone she picked up for $4 at a garage sale. Great phone - nice and hefty, good sound to the receiver, nice big buttons. A couple of times when she came to visit she oohed and awed over the phone, and said how disappointed she was that she couldn't find another one just like it.

Then, for Christmas, she bought me a brand new phone. Must have cost her 10 times what the garage sale one had. It looked superficially similar, but felt much flimsier and sounded tinny. But she said, "Since you've got a nice brand new phone now, I might as well take this old one."

My own mother! Can you believe it?

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