Never Delete
Nancy Rommelmann sent me this yesterday, a photo of our friend Cathy Seipp, who died last year of lung cancer (and no, she didn't smoke -- Cathy would want me to tell you that...and Nancy is laughing reading that, am I right, Nance?)
The photo reminded me of a moving post I found on OnlyTheBlogKnowsBrooklyn, about the voice of the blogger's late father on the answering machine:
My father's voice is still on his answering machine and I love the way he delivers the message. Especially the way he says: Thank you. There's a slight squeak at the end of the you.I helped him install that machine a few months ago. His old one had broken and he always relied on me for electronic installations. I was his computer geek and phone machine expert and I must say I enjoyed the somewhat misbegotten confidence he had in me.
And I did not want to disappoint.
I sat with him when he recorded the message. He was already sick with cancer but going through a good phase.
He sounds very healthy on the message.
Friends are pressuring my stepmother to change the message. They tell her that's it's disturbing to them. My stepmother doesn't want to take it off. Once it's gone, it's gone. Also, she doesn't hear it because she never calls herself.
My sister wants to keep it there. So do I. We both enjoy this daily encounter with our father. I don't think I can bear the thought of it not being there. He was always the voice on their answering machine.
I still have Cathy's number and Marnye Oppenheim's number and Marlowe Minnick's number and Marlon Brando's number on my cell phone (he and I met in an AOL chat room years ago and became friends). I find it comforting to not lose touch in whatever ways I can.
Callers who are troubled by this guy's message on the phone should e-mail or write letters instead of calling. In fact, the way I see it, I get way too many phone calls, and I'm somebody who's trained her friends not to pick up the phone and call, as there's a good chance I'm either on deadline or napping.
Assuming you're not a friend who's a thousand miles away -- in which case, I'll be glad to talk to you on the phone -- if I really like you, I want to see you in person for some quality time. If I don't want to see you in person; well, why would I want to waste my time talking to you on the phone?
Thanks, I needed that.
Roger at October 10, 2008 4:55 AM
That's a coincidence. One of my clients (named Gerry), who was a good friend, died about 4 years ago. His son took over the business. I called the business yesterday and Gerry's voice was still on the answering machine.
eric at October 10, 2008 10:01 AM
I've saved all that stuff from a friend as well. It's silly and kind of morbid and I'm glad to have it.
Meanwhile, let's all try to avoid getting cancer (per Reynolds).
Crid [cridcridatgmail] at October 10, 2008 12:02 PM
I don't remember who wrote it but someone once said "Death is about not being able to talk to someone anymore". In a way having a "Telephone Memorial" makes perfect sense. Thank you for sharing.
Toubrouk at October 10, 2008 12:28 PM
Thanks for posting such a lovely photo of Cathy. I was a regular reader of her blog and miss her unique perspective on the world.
belle de ville at October 10, 2008 10:57 PM
Amy Alkon
http://www.advicegoddess.com/archives/2008/10/10/never_delete.html#comment-1596615">comment from belle de villeThanks for the note about that. I really miss her, too...all the time.
Amy Alkon
at October 11, 2008 1:21 AM
I was a regular reader of Cathy's blog, too. I never met her, but I just loved her blog and her articles. I never missed a thing that she wrote. I still can't believe she is dead. At least once a week--it seems-- at least-- I think of her & wonder what she would've said about something. I really miss her. It was so nice to see that photo of her, thanks.
I am going through the old letters and photos of my husband's grand mother & father.. These letters date from 1904 to 1944. All kinds of letters & photos & more (they never threw a thing away!) Even though these folks died decades ago & I never met them, my mind thinks of them as alive and as my friends. And they kinda are.
I wouldn't erase that answering machine message, either.
Susan at October 11, 2008 4:19 PM
It took me about two years to delete a dead co-worker's email from my contact list. And then after I did it, i wished I hadn't, but adding her back in seemed weird.
Monica at October 13, 2008 11:02 AM
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