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The Call - A Will Starr Short Story


The Call

The front window's pane was rimmed in feathery ice as she gazed out at the slowly falling flakes. Harold had always installed the storm windows in the fall, but her frail hands could not manage the chore, and Dale Jenkins, who farmed down the road, was so busy harvesting that she hated to ask him, although she knew he would have put all aside to accommodate her. He was a good neighbor.

They bought the farm after Harold came home from the war. He had flown B-17's over Germany, and had been wounded twice. Unlike many others, he put the horrors behind him, but he kept in touch with his crew and other pilots, and they had annual get-togethers, until Harold was the only one left. Now, he too was gone.

He also left all animosity toward his former enemies behind him, so when two town toughs began to rawhide an old German farmer, Harold intervened. "Mister Ackerman is a loyal American, boys, and the war is over, so you'd best leave him be. Besides, when the bullets were flying over there, I don't remember seeing either one of you heroes." That was the end of that.

One of his wounds had left him sterile, so he offered to let Maggie out of the engagement, but she responded in feigned anger, telling him that he was not getting off the hook that easily. They never had children.

The years flew by, and where some couples drifted apart, they grew closer and closer. The farm was a success, and they found time in the slow winter months to indulge Maggie's travel dreams. They visited some of the same places Harold had bombed all those years ago, and he was gratified to learn that the citizens now placed the blame on Hitler, where it belonged.

Harold also bought a small plane, and they flew all over the United States, seeing the grand things many citizens would never be able to see. Through it all, they remained the sort of lovers that authors struggle to write books about.

They had been married for sixty two years, when one day, he stood at the breakfast table, sipping his coffee. When she waved him to the chair beside her, he smiled and shook his head. "I can't sit, Maggie. I have a pain, way down low. Guess I'd better call on old Doc Massy. "Old" Doc Massy was at least thirty years Harold's junior, but he insisted on calling him old anyway. That was his wry sense of humor.

Doc Massy shook his head sadly, and less than a month later, Maggie buried the only man she had ever loved. He died in their marriage bed with Maggie at his side, and it was just the two of them, as always. His breathing became so shallow, that Maggie thought he might already be gone, but then he opened his eyes and looked around until he found her. She had to bend close to hear his weak whispers.

"I think I'll just hang around here, Mag, until you're ready to go too. I'll make my presence known somehow." His lips formed a small smile, and then he was gone. She thought about calling Greer's mortuary, but decided instead to simply wait until morning. She got up and shut down the house for the night, just as Harold had always done. Then she covered Harold up to his chin, and slid in beside her husband for the last time. His hand was already cool, but she held it anyway as she said her evening prayers alone, for the first time in sixty two years. Then she slept.

That was last February, and despite his promise to 'hang around', Harold was gone for good. She looked for him in the awakening of spring, and throughout the long summer, but no butterfly landed on her head, and no shaft of light peered though the storm clouds to find her. There were no mysteriously banging doors or echoing footsteps in the hall. There was nothing. Harold had failed to stay with her, the first promise he had ever broken, but she knew he was in the best of hands. She had great faith, and Harold had always been a man of God.

Now it was Christmas Eve, and the storm was intensifying, so she got out her oil lamps and candles, lighting one lamp, just in case the power went out. She carried in a bucket of split oak chunks, and lit a fire in the cast iron stove, also just in case. She peered through the window at the Jenkins' farm a mile up the road, but could see nothing but blowing snow. Then the power went out, and the faint ringing began.

At first, in the confusion of the power outage, she did not hear it. But after she lit the lamps and a few candles to push back the gloom, the ringing became noticeable. She was more curious than alarmed, because Harold had the old house phone removed after each of them got a cell phone and learned how to use them. The ringing was not her cell phone, which used the sounds of birds chirping in the rare event that someone called. It was more like a tinkling bell, yet not that either. And it was faint, as if it was far away. It was also vaguely familiar, but she could not place it.

Then it stopped.

Outside, the wind picked up to a low moan, as Maggie put a pan of soup on the wood stove to warm. She carried her lantern to the window and peered out. The snow was now so dense that she could not see the black walnut tree, scarcely fifteen feet away. She took her cell phone out of her pocket and examined it. She had no bars at all. The snow had blocked the signal, as usual. She pulled her shawl tighter and sat next to the warmth of the stove as the first cold fingers of fear gripped her spine. Then the ringing began again.

She listened more intently this time, and realized that it was one long ring followed by two short rings. She got up and began walking from room to room on the first floor. All but the parlor, her bath, and her bedroom were closed off for winter, so the other rooms were frigid in the sub-zero temperatures, and the doorknobs were freezing cold. She had just finished searching the first floor when the ringing ceased.

She sat back down by the stove and looked at her only concession to Christmas. Years before, Harold had bought her a small, porcelain tree that was lit up from the inside by an electric bulb. There were hundreds of small, colored glass bulbs illuminated by the bulb inside the tree. It was dark now that the power was out, but it was beautiful, nonetheless. This was her first Christmas without Harold, who loved the holiday, and that was the sole reason she had put it up. For the first time in her life, she was not in the mood.

She dished her soup from the pot and sat by the stove again. Outside, the storm was now shrieking, and she could hear the windows rattling. The soup tasted good, and it warmed her. As she emptied the bowl, the ringing began again.

The second floor was also closed off, but Maggie was now more curious than cold, so she opened the door to the dark staircase and began to climb.

The ringing was now louder, but seemed to come from no particular direction, so she walked the hall, opening one door after another to no avail. At last, she stood at the door leading to the attic, the one place she had always feared to go. The stair was narrow, steep, and dark. Harold had taken her up there once, but it was cluttered with musty old relics, so she never returned. He loved old antiques, but she did not. Now, she was an old antique. The thought made her smile.

The ringing stopped again.

Maggie put more wood in the stove, enjoying the heat. She fetched more from the pile in the mud room, and stacked it by the wall. She had plenty to last her until morning, and enough in the mud room to last a week. The ringing began again, but she ignored it. She was not about to climb into the dark attic in the middle of a blizzard on some fool's quest.

She sat and reflected on the past while the storm raged outside. Harold had been eighty seven when he passed and she was now eighty five. They had never been rich and they had never had children, but still, it had been the best of lives, with the lasting love and devotion so many today were unable to find. They had worked at love. They had worked hard.

The ringing began again, but she ignored it again. At last, she dozed off.

The chill woke her, and she put more wood in the stove. In the attic, the ringing began again, but this time it seemed louder and more insistent. At last, curiosity overcame her fear and she ascended the stairs once more. She hesitated at the door to the attic for a moment, but finally opened it and peered up in the darkness. She began to climb the cold, creaking stairs.

She hung the lantern on the hook at the top of the stairs and used both hands to lift the trapdoor. She was rewarded with falling dust and a blast of cold air. Above her head, she could hear the wind rattling on the tin roof. They had always enjoyed the sound of summer rain on that metal roof, but now, it sounded menacing.

The ringing was now loud, and as she lifted the lantern to have a look, she realized why the sound was oddly familiar. It was emanating from the old crank telephone that was on the kitchen wall when they first bought the farm, and the one long ring followed by two short rings was their old party line ring, telling them that a call was for them. However she could plainly see that the frayed old wires were not connected to anything, so how could it be ringing? She sat on an old chair and stared at the phone sitting on the dusty table in front of her. At last, she reached for the earpiece, and put it to her ear.


"Hello Maggie, my love."

The voice was beautifully melodic, like a fine violin or a golden wind instrument. It was the voice of a heavenly being, perhaps an angel.

But she knew instantly it was Harold. She was speechless.

"Are you there, Maggie? I've been calling all night!"

The cold and storm were forgotten. "Yes, yes, I'm here! Harold? Is that really you?"

"We can call anyone we want, Maggie, but it is just so beautiful and serene here, most folks don't want anything to do with the former life. The joy is beyond belief."

He paused

"The only Earthly joy I had that came close to this paradise was loving you, Maggie, so I decided to call you tonight. We celebrate the birth and life of Christ here every day and eternally, but I thought this would be a good day to tell you that the best part is still ahead of you and that you and I will soon be together for all time."

She nodded, tears streaming down her face.

"I miss you so, Harold."

The voice grew gentle and soft. "I knew you held me even after I was gone that night, Maggie. I will hold you the same gentle way when it's your time, and then I will present you to the Prince. I must go now, but you and I will be together forever when the time has come. I love you, Maggie."

"I love you too, Harold." The line was dead.

Maggie picked up the lantern and started to leave. Then she hesitated, and picked up the old telephone too, placing it under her arm. Carefully, she descended the stairs.

For a long time, she sat by the warm fire, her hand idly caressing the old phone standing beside her on the floor. She smiled through her tears as the storm raged outside. She was finally at peace with herself and the world.

At last, the fire died down, and she became chilled. She rose to put more wood on the fire and then hesitated. Slowly, she put the wood back on the pile and sat back down. Smiling, she began to rock and hum Harold's favorite hymn.


The two men gazed solemnly down at the small, still figure who seemed to be napping in her rocking chair. Only the telltale blue of her skin revealed the truth.

"Can't figure it out Sheriff. She had plenty of wood to hand, so maybe she had a heart attack or something."

The sheriff's deputy nodded, his breath plainly visible in the frigid air. "Hard to say, Dale. It was near forty below last night, so maybe she just got too cold to function. It's still barely above zero."

Dale Jenkins shifted his feet. "I guess I should have checked in on her earlier, but I couldn't see twenty feet in front of me for the snow last night. Say, what is that thing beside her?"

"It's one of those old crank phones. Maybe she was going to burn it for heat. Hell, it probably hasn't worked in sixty years."


WillStarr (author) from Phoenix, Arizona on December 15, 2015:

Thank you for reading and commenting, Lokesh Umak!

Lokesh from Umak on December 15, 2015:

Awesome story... keep it up

WillStarr (author) from Phoenix, Arizona on December 13, 2015:

Thank you, Kendall!

Kendall Price was a young, down-the-country-road neighbor boy when I last saw him in the hills of Kentucky, but he was also the man of the family, and his proud mother and sisters counted on him.

Now he's man grown and a fine Christian. God bless him.

kendall price on December 13, 2015:

I loved it ! Makes one won't to hold your loved ones close. God bless

WillStarr (author) from Phoenix, Arizona on September 15, 2015:

Thank you, Nell!

Nell Rose from England on September 15, 2015:

I love it Will! what a wonderful story! who knows after researching my stuff, maybe its more true than we think, wonderful!

WillStarr (author) from Phoenix, Arizona on August 16, 2015:

Thank you, Robert!

Robert Sacchi on August 16, 2015:

A touching story. Many things you described in the story (pardon the pun) rang so true.

WillStarr (author) from Phoenix, Arizona on November 12, 2014:

Thank you, Suzie!

suziecat7 from Asheville, NC on November 12, 2014:

This is one of your best stories. I almost had to search for a tissue. Very beautiful...thanks.

WillStarr (author) from Phoenix, Arizona on November 12, 2014:

Thank you, Mandy!

Mandy Avery on November 12, 2014:

very very touching.. loved the mix of a veteran, Christian, farmer.. all the things I grew up with... Made me tear up.. Loved the simplicity of their love but an adventure also.. like always you made this gal oohh and awww over your story.. wonderfully written .. and captivating..

WillStarr (author) from Phoenix, Arizona on September 25, 2013:

Hi Ghaelach, my old friend!

After I wrote this, my wife's aunt had a near death experience, and she told us about a profusion of angels, so He is there, waiting for us. Your mother is in good hands.

WillStarr (author) from Phoenix, Arizona on September 25, 2013:

Thank you Schoolmom!

I enjoyed writing it. It's part of my Christmas series.

Ghaelach on September 25, 2013:

Morning Will.

Hope you are keeping well. It's been a long time since we've heard from you.

But I can understand your frustration with HP. My own stories aren't actually hitting the skies with them, but I keep on publishing my little crime series that I have going these days.

I have now read this hub five (5) times and it does the same thing each time, the flood gets open up and that's it for a short time. It gets me thinking of my beloved mother that died eleven years ago.

Have a nice day and look after yourself.

LOL Ghaelach

Schoolmom24 from Oregon on September 24, 2013:

This was so beautiful and had to wipe the tears. I'm so glad you stopped by and commented on my story or I wouldn't have found this one. I love the message of devotion and love and most of all, the eternal promise.


WillStarr (author) from Phoenix, Arizona on July 03, 2013:

Thank you, Audrey June!

(Love that name!)

Audrey Hunt from Pahrump NV on July 02, 2013:

Oh, Will! This is the most beautiful, heart-warming story. I'm still wiping my tears. You have a tremendous way of pulling the reader directly into the emotional impact. I personally found a lovely message here. And the love that lasted for so many years between Maggie and Harold touched me to the core.

Your talent is so great! Thank you Will. Voted up and across and sharing all over the place.

Hugs and Happiness ~ Audrey

WillStarr (author) from Phoenix, Arizona on January 15, 2013:

Thank you, Cam!

Chris Mills from Traverse City, MI on January 15, 2013:

What a story, Will. I wish I had one of those old crank phones at hand. Thanks for the hope.

WillStarr (author) from Phoenix, Arizona on December 10, 2012:

Thank you Carrie Lee for a super comment!

The secular left is trying to eliminate any mention of Christ. We won't go along with that.

Carrie Lee Night from Northeast United States on December 10, 2012:

Will Starr:

Thank you again for such a heart felt story :) Faith is something this world lacks and I'm very happy to see there are still people in this world who can write stories to paint such a beautiful picture of what's yet to come :) Also thank you for using the word Christmas instead of Holidays :) it's refeshing :)

WillStarr (author) from Phoenix, Arizona on December 09, 2012:

Hi Genna!

When I was a small boy, I was convinced that a monster lived in our small-town Iowa attic, so I stayed far away unless my daddy took me up there. He could whip anything, including monsters, so I went along willingly, in open defiance of that evil old monster. Sure enough, the monster was afraid of my daddy, and remained hidden in the moving shadows cast by the single, gently swaying, attic bulb..

But I knew he was there.


Genna East from Massachusetts, USA on December 09, 2012:

There is a compelling melodic flow to this story, Will…like free prose, lyrical poetry. When Maggie reached the door to the attic, I held my breath as I have always been afraid of those dark and creaking places too. Perhaps it is because no one actually lives amongst attic storage – the castoffs that people no longer use but can’t seem to part with for some reason. How unique to have Harold “call” Maggie when the time was right. :-) I knew when she decided against putting more wood on the fire, she was leaving to join Harold, and your words took us to this perfect resolution so beautifully. This is one of your best stories, Will. Voted up and more, plus sharing.

Joanna Chandler from On Planet Earth on December 04, 2012:

ummm hmmm sure they are

WillStarr (author) from Phoenix, Arizona on November 30, 2012:

Thank you, LadyFiddler!

They are together again.

WillStarr (author) from Phoenix, Arizona on November 30, 2012:

Thank you, shiningirisheyes!

WillStarr (author) from Phoenix, Arizona on November 30, 2012:

Thank you, Patriette.

WillStarr (author) from Phoenix, Arizona on November 30, 2012:

Thank you, flacoinohio!

WillStarr (author) from Phoenix, Arizona on November 30, 2012:

Thank you, viveresperando!

Joanna Chandler from On Planet Earth on November 30, 2012:

Good night, another Masterpiece of yours

Lovely story am glad that she went to meet Harold in heaven I myself can't wait to enjoy that bliss over there, words can never tell how beautiful heaven really is.

Thanks Will

Shining Irish Eyes from Upstate, New York on November 30, 2012:

Will - You already know what a fan I am of your writing and this is a prime example. It brought tears to my eye but I encourage you to continue on with this. Maybe a group of these types of stories.

Patriette from Las Vegas, NV on November 29, 2012:

Very sweet and tender, Will. I loved this story even though the end had me crying like a baby.

flacoinohio from Ohio on November 28, 2012:

Loved this story, one of the most wonderful stories I have read in a long time. Made me tear up at the end.

viveresperando from A Place Where Nothing Is Real on November 28, 2012:

Such a beautiful and touching story. Loved it.

WillStarr (author) from Phoenix, Arizona on November 28, 2012:

Thank you so much, Vicki!

WillStarr (author) from Phoenix, Arizona on November 28, 2012:

Hi Beth! Glad you liked it!

WillStarr (author) from Phoenix, Arizona on November 28, 2012:

Thank you, AudreyHowitt! What a super comment.

WillStarr (author) from Phoenix, Arizona on November 28, 2012:

Thank you, Jackie!

WillStarr (author) from Phoenix, Arizona on November 28, 2012:

Thanks, Chris, and what a great observation!

WillStarr (author) from Phoenix, Arizona on November 28, 2012:

Thank you, ignugent17!

WillStarr (author) from Phoenix, Arizona on November 28, 2012:

Thanks, onetouchnewlife, and thanks too for the follow!

WillStarr (author) from Phoenix, Arizona on November 28, 2012:

Thank you, Blossom!

vikkijov from Mystic, CT on November 28, 2012:

The story was very interesting, kept me engrossed in it. You had me in another time and place reading this and it was so heartfelt. Good work, Will!

Beth Perry from Tennesee on November 28, 2012:

Will, what a beautiful love story! You've made my day with it :)

Audrey Howitt from California on November 28, 2012:

Just beautiful--made me cry--have to share this!

Jackie Lynnley from the beautiful south on November 28, 2012:

Another masterpiece, which I always love to linger over. Up and sharing.

Chris Merritt from Pendleton, Indiana on November 28, 2012:

Even though it was forty below, it was a WARM story!

Up and awesome...

ignugent17 on November 28, 2012:

Very touching story. It is always nice to put something to smile on like using the old phone. Very beautiful and shows the simplicity of love. :-)

onetouchnewlife on November 28, 2012:

Good story. I like your writing.

Bronwen Scott-Branagan from Victoria, Australia on November 27, 2012:

What a beautiful story. It was very touching but not overdone. Really enjoyed it, so thank you.

WillStarr (author) from Phoenix, Arizona on November 27, 2012:

Thank you, DRBJ!

You are very kind.


drbj and sherry from south Florida on November 27, 2012:

What a wonderful, tender love story, Will. I was enraptured by it. And I do not use that word often nor carelessly. You are one skilled story-teller!

WillStarr (author) from Phoenix, Arizona on November 27, 2012:

Thank you, Amy, for a superb comment.

Only the deepest love would compel someone to forsake the joys of Paradise even momentarily to contact anyone from their former life on Earth. Your father must have loved you both very deeply.

Amy Becherer from St. Louis, MO on November 27, 2012:

Oh, Will...this is so reminiscent of my father's death 11 years ago. He had a bleed at his brainstem and was in grave condition by the time he got to the hospital quickly by ambulance. I stayed with him all night and the next day. We had made up after a long estrangement that my mom decided was best. I had been compelled to see them about 2 months before my dad passed, when he told me he loved me and not to be a stranger. My then husband, Paul, stayed with me and my dad the night and went to pick up my mom from home so she could spend time with dad. She had left the ER the night before with a neighbor who had followed the ambulance to the hospital. I ran home to take a shower, brush my teeth and give mom some quiet time with dad. She called me to say dad had died. I quickly returned to the hospital, brought mom home and took her up on her invitation to stay the night. I had only been in a restless sleep for maybe an hour when a digital song woke me. In the morning, I asked mom if she'd heard the song and inquired if she had an alarm set? She said, "Oh, Amy, you heard it too? Dad had bought mom a Casio watch many years ago that a jeweler broke trying to replace the battery. Mom loved the watch and kept it on top of the frig, though it never worked again. Earlier in the day, when she'd returned via a neighbor, she was looking through dad's clothes for his insurance card. While in the kitchen, she heard the watch play a tune, the first in the 15 years since it had been broken. That night, dad played the same song for me. I knew dad was telling us, in a uniquely meaningful way we would understand, that he was fine.

Your story touched me at my core, Will. Thank you so much.

WillStarr (author) from Phoenix, Arizona on November 27, 2012:

Thank you, my beautiful Carolee!

WillStarr (author) from Phoenix, Arizona on November 27, 2012:

Thank you, Ruby, and like you, I consider all talents, big or small, gifts from God.

WillStarr (author) from Phoenix, Arizona on November 27, 2012:

Hello G-Ma Johnson,

I am so saddened to learn of the loss of your mama. Please consider this story dedicated to her, and if you want, I'll make it a footnote.

Please accept my condolences.

Carolee Samuda from Jamaica on November 27, 2012:

Beautiful as usual Will. I loved it. So much love in there and a miracle indeed.

Ruby Jean Richert from Southern Illinois on November 26, 2012:

This is so beautiful. It made me cry again. Will you are a great story teller and i feel each word you pen. God bless you. He has given you a gift..Thank you..

Merle Ann Johnson from NW in the land of the Free on November 26, 2012:

And I cried and I cried, today Nov. 26th would have been my Mothers 93 rd BD. and she died 5 months ago, so will be my first Christmas without her. I know she is with her Love and they too are happy.

I also remember those phones, it was fun...Love to you Mr.Will Starr and God Bless you always...:O) Hugs G-Ma

WillStarr (author) from Phoenix, Arizona on November 26, 2012:

Thank you, landscapeartist!

Some couples simply fade away after losing their life's companion. One of my teachers, a lady in apparent good health, collapsed and died just days after her husband also suddenly passed away.

It reinforces my belief in God.

Roberta McIlroy from Ontario, Canada on November 26, 2012:

omg!!! The emotion one feels when reading this beautiful story is so overwhelming! I started to cry because it made me think about my mother-in-law and the day she died. She could have done things differently that day that would have extended her life longer but she felt it was her time to go be with the one she loved all her life. So, she ate what she wasn't supposed to and then told us that she loved us before she went to bed. she never did that ever in all the 20 years i had known her. i miss her so much! thank you for your awesome story! This definitely deserves a vote up!

WillStarr (author) from Phoenix, Arizona on November 26, 2012:

They run around $200 for a complete, working unit.

April Reynolds from Arizona on November 26, 2012:

That's funny, they are probably pretty valuable now

WillStarr (author) from Phoenix, Arizona on November 26, 2012:

Thank you, April. Our little Iowa town was one of the last to get dial phones, and the citizens put the old crank models out in the trash. I went around with my wagon and picked up quite a few for the hand cranked generators inside. They were useful for shocking girls and getting worms to come out of the ground.

April Reynolds from Arizona on November 26, 2012:

I always love your stories willstarr and this one is one of my favorite. Made me teary. Brought back some memories too, one of my grandmothers had one of those ceramic christmas trees and the other had the crank phone still hanging by the kitchen.

Old Poolman on November 26, 2012:

Not a bad idea, let me think on that a little.

WillStarr (author) from Phoenix, Arizona on November 26, 2012:

You could do it as a serial...maybe five parts?

Old Poolman on November 26, 2012:

Not sure where I would publish that story. Too long for Hub Pages.

WillStarr (author) from Phoenix, Arizona on November 26, 2012:

"I think I might be a one story author."

There's no such thing. All a writer of your talent needs is an idea.

But you should publish the one you already wrote. It's a great story!

WillStarr (author) from Phoenix, Arizona on November 26, 2012:

Thank you, Angela.

'This Old House' is a favorite childhood memory for me. We were still living in South Carolina's piney woods when that came out.

Old Poolman on November 26, 2012:

WillStarr - I think I might be a one story author. But, one day when the spirit moves me I may try another.

WillStarr (author) from Phoenix, Arizona on November 26, 2012:

Thanks Mike...sometimes an idea just pops up.

BTW, you are a fine author, my friend. When are you going to let other Hubbers know just how good you are?

WillStarr (author) from Phoenix, Arizona on November 26, 2012:

Thank you, Becky, and you nailed it.

WillStarr (author) from Phoenix, Arizona on November 26, 2012:

Hi Ginn,

My grandmother used to listen in on all the party line calls, and her neighbors knew it, but said nothing. They were all relatives anyway.

WillStarr (author) from Phoenix, Arizona on November 26, 2012:

Thank you, tlpoague !

Angela Blair from Central Texas on November 26, 2012:

Will -- beautiful and touching story -- reminded me of my Granny who raised me. Her favorite song was "This Old House" -- she was widowed in her early 30's, died at 77 and had never remarried. She called her deceased husband "Mr. Hughes" and the day she died I think she was delighted to be going to him. You've again touched my heart. Best/Sis

Old Poolman on November 26, 2012:

WillStarr - Just when I think you can't possibly do any better, you come up with one like this. You proved me wrong again, this was awesome and beautiful.


Becky Katz from Hereford, AZ on November 26, 2012:

Beautiful story. They just belonged together and she was tired of waiting.

Ginn Navarre on November 26, 2012:

Hey you! great story and I'm here to tell you that I too used that old crank phone--three long's and a short was our dial but if no one caught you one could listen to other's call---I learned a lot there!

Tammy on November 26, 2012:

What a beautiful story. It brought tears to my eyes as I thought about my great-grandmother. Terrific job!

WillStarr (author) from Phoenix, Arizona on November 26, 2012:

Thank you so much, Ghaelach, my good friend! My wife and I hope to visit there soon. My ancestors are Scotch/Irish.

WillStarr (author) from Phoenix, Arizona on November 26, 2012:

Thank you Wayne!

Sadly, people no longer stay together long enough to learn that great bond.

WillStarr (author) from Phoenix, Arizona on November 26, 2012:

Well, that was fast Don! Thank you my friend.

Ghaelach on November 26, 2012:

Hi Will.

You've done it big this time.

Just finished reading "The Call" for the second time, and I can't see a thing out of my eyes. I think the broken flood banks have broken .............. I'm back after a break.

One of your best, from my thinking Will.

Take care.

LOL Ghaelach

Wayne Brown from Texas on November 26, 2012:

Now that would be some phone call, wouldn't it? The story demonstrates the directions that human will and determination can take. My parents were married for more than sixty years when my dad passed on. I can see that my mother lost much of herself when that occurred....two people as one. Great story, Will! UP and AWESOME. ~WB

Don A. Hoglund from Wisconsin Rapids on November 26, 2012:

I remember seeing the old crank telephones but never used one. This could probably have been my grandparents home in Northern Minnesota. Good Christmas read. up votes and shared.

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