THIRTY, TWENTY
Don Lively

3020. Three zero, two zero. Thirty, twenty. Just a number. It could have many different meanings. It designates the century that will begin 1012 years from now. It might be close to the number of pounds I've lost and gained and lost again over time. I hope it will be what the NASDAQ hits in the next few years! But in reality it means something entirely different to me. That number was my link to home.

For over forty years 3020 was Mama's phone number. The phone book said it was Daddy's but he always tried to avoid the phone so it was really hers. It's the only phone number that she ever had. Imagine that! The same number since the early 60's!

The phone appeared about the same time as the indoor plumbing, when we moved into a new house when I was twelve. Before then, if some emergency required a phone call, we relied on what few neighbors had phones.

It's hard to imagine now but back then very few country homes had telephones. When we finally moved into the twentieth century, we were assigned the number 3020 and joined a party line with several other families, mostly kinfolk. In a precursor to today's ringtones, each family had its own ring. Ours was one long ring. Grandma's was one long ring followed by one short. Another cousin's was three short rings. One thing was certain, anybody could listen in, and they did, however I'm sure that national security was never compromised.

When we were first given the number you could simply dial 4-3020 from anywhere in the county to reach us. Years later the whole prefix became necessary. Even later an area code was added when the conversing population grew. Eventually callers were required to dial all ten numbers.

Times and dialing methods changed but 3020 remained constant. I dialed the number a thousand times from college either from homesickness or to beg for replenishment of funds. The first time I dialed the number after I moved Out West, I was standing at a pay phone talking to Mama, telling her how fine the weather was in Colorado when out of nowhere came a freezing rain and sleet…in June! Mama took the opportunity to remind me that I could move back to Georgia anytime.

3020 represents a myriad of conversations about the highs and lows of life. It received and sent news of new babies and new life but also word of too many deaths, some expected, some devastating. It saw hundreds of minutes of uncomfortable silence that all teenagers experience when talking to someone of the opposite sex with absolutely nothing clever to say but with no inclination to hang up. Important calls, mundane calls, most now forgotten but some that never will be.

One year I dialed 3020 to tell Mama and Daddy the joyous news that, finally, the last of their children was getting married. Many years later I called again with the heartbreaking news that the marriage was over, the hardest call I ever made.

But between those calls, and since, there were plenty of occasions for rejoicing. Births and birthdays, graduations, promotions, travel plans, any event that needed to be shared. Calls made just for the comfort certain voices gave.

One year Mama called on my birthday and, not catching me at home, made Daddy sing Happy Birthday with her into the phone mail. When I heard it I could hear the embarrassment in his voice but I loved it and saved it for as long as the phone company allowed. The next year he died. I'd give anything to dial 3020 and hear his voice again.

Mama doesn't live at 3020 anymore. My brothers and I recently noticed that the line was dead. I had spoken to my sister about shutting it off since Mama has moved and we all have cell phones. I assumed that she had stopped the service and I felt an odd sadness at the thought that 3020 was gone. After a jillion phone calls, it was gone. The stories that 3020 could tell!

As it turned out, the phone was not shut off but had just been knocked out by the recent heavy rains. But the reality is, it's only a matter of time until it will go silent permanently. 3020 will fade into our family history like the henhouse and the pig parlor. Gone like the clunky black rotary phone which bore it. A thing of the past. The phone company will one day reassign the number with no thought of it's significance to one family. That's just the way it works.

3020. Just a number. Just our number for generations.

Don Lively is a retired police officer and freelance writer. He spends his time between Shell Bluff and Charleston. Send comments or questions to Livelycolo@aol.com.