Ode to a Number

Donna and I moved to Cumming on the fourth of July weekend, 1981. We bought a foreclosed house and an old high school buddy of mine, Mike Elder, helped us move north using a U-Haul truck.  One of the first things we did when we moved was arrange for telephone service from what was then known as Southern Bell. The phone number we were assigned was 887-0510.

That phone number served our family well, through seven different moves in Forsyth County, the birth of two children, and multiple career changes. Our daughters used that number for all the calling teenage girls will do; at least until they used the number so much we had to get them their own phone lines for a while. I got the call that I had been appointed to plant what would become Creekside UMC on that phone line. I made the calls that led to the start of NewSong on that phone line. I got numerous calls in the middle of the night to “come right away” to hospitals or funeral homes on that line as well.  

Many of the vendors we use as a family identify us by that phone number. I have out-of-state relatives that have that number memorized we’ve had it so long. Honestly, 887-0510 has been a pretty big part of our lives for a long, long time now.

But the number also represented about $60 a month that we don’t need to spend any more, what with cell phones, texting, email, Facebook, Twitter, etc…. And so yesterday I called the company now known as AT&T and I cancelled our service. The man I spoke to there said, “When would you like to discontinue your service?” I replied, “Any time is fine.” He gave me the “disconnect service” confirmation number and we hung up.

Less than five minutes later I picked up the phone…just to see, and there was absolute silence. The line was completely dead. Something, I’m not sure exactly what, but something made me very sad about the silence on the line. It was as if one more chapter of our lives – chapters which now seem to fly by at the speed of light – had ended. I'm pretty sure it wouldn’t have helped if Ma Bell had left the line on a few more hours, but there was something about the suddenness and the finality of the passing of 887-0510 into oblivion that made me feel gloomy and old.

So here’s to you 887-0510. You weren’t as famous or irrational as pi (3.14159), you weren’t as sinister as 666, or as lonely as the number 1 (one is the loneliest number); but you served us well. Rest in peace old friend, and may your next owner/user enjoy you as much as we did.