My cell phone sent me an alert that I was almost at my voicemail limit the other day. This doesn’t surprise me because I have a hard time erasing the funny or touching messages I get from friends and family. For me, this started back in the days of answering machines. Remember those? The tiny cassette tape would give you 30 seconds or less before it would beep and hang up so you’d have to call back again if you had more to say. Now we have cell phones where I can leave rambling messages to my husband about my day or accidentally pocket dial my niece and take her on a virtual shopping trip through Target in my purse and all she can do is text me multiple times and hope I hear the beeps and hang up the call.
Because I’m married to a technology guy, we’ve had what’s called voice-over-IP (VoIP) or Internet phone services for probably 15 years now, which means when someone calls and leaves a message, I also get it as an attachment in my email that I can click on and listen to on my computer speakers. This lets me save these voice messages for as long as I’d like in my email which leads to a bittersweet collection from people I love, some of whom are no longer living.
I was thinking about this as I was clearing my overstuffed voicemail and sending some of those messages to the archive. They are simple messages: my dad checking in after a trip and letting me know he’s back safe from Utah, a friend sharing she has adopted the cutest new kitten, my sister singing me happy birthday, my husband being silly. I know there’s some in there from my mom. I haven’t had the heart to listen to them again, even after nine years. But I will listen to them someday and be glad to have them.
She shared that at a recent memorial service, everyone left messages to the woman who had died, remembering her and what they loved about her, and who she was to them. These messages were then downloaded onto a CD and given to the family to keep. “I think people feel safer being vulnerable and sharing what’s on their heart when they can do it on their own,” Jeanne said. “Sometimes you really want to share something but it’s hard to say it to the other person.”
There are so many digital photos stored on hard drives and CDs in our home, filled with people we’ve known and the things we’ve done in our lives. Sometimes Mike puts a USB drive into our TV and a bunch of them scroll through in slideshow mode. They’re wonderful to look at, but the sheer quantity can be overwhelming. I feel the same way about social media, even though I’ve loaded up my share of photos and videos in the last 14 years. That’s why I save my voicemails. A simple message from someone I love saying a few kind or funny words I can listen to again and again means more to me than a thousand photos ever could.
Prescott-area resident Kelly Paradis is a community liaison for Good Samaritan Home Health and Hospice and Prescott Evening Lions president. You can check out the Retro Guestbook service and all the unique phones they use at www.retroguestbook.com.