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FeaturesMarch 6, 2001

My friend Lynn recently allowed her 7-year-old to record the outgoing message on the family answering machine. It's a rite of passage for kids these days -- the first generation born into a world where everybody who has a telephone has an answering machine...

My friend Lynn recently allowed her 7-year-old to record the outgoing message on the family answering machine.

It's a rite of passage for kids these days -- the first generation born into a world where everybody who has a telephone has an answering machine.

Ben's message was concise and delivered in a loud, clear voice. Recording it probably made his day. Listening to it made me smile.

It reminded me of when the phone was a friend and not an adversary trying to suck away my precious little free time.

Remember when your mom first let you answer the telephone? How she coached you to say "hello" and "who's calling, please?" How exciting it was to be the first person in the house to know who was on the other end instead of hovering around and whispering, "Who is it, Mom? Who is it?"

At least that's how it went in my house. Today, some kids don't have "home trainin'," as Tamara Zellars Buck so aptly puts it. They snatch up the phone, ask, "Who is this?" and leave you trying to explain to a 4-year-old who you are and get her to bring her mom or dad to the phone. It's like trying to talk to Lassie. "Go on, girl! Bring Mommy to the phone! Go on! Good girl. Get Mommy! You can do it!"

A few years after that initial excitement over answering the phone, kids become involved in a true love affair with it. Honestly, there are 10-year-olds with their own phone lines and other kids calling to chat. What could they possibly have to talk about at that age? Barbie's new Corvette?

By the teen years, of course, the phone becomes a permanent part of a child's head. And now we have cell phones, which parents want their kids to have so they can keep an ear on them, so to speak.

That excitement bleeds into the early 20s, I figure. Or at least throughout a person's dating years. Every phone call could be that special someone, right?

I haven't been excited about phone calls since my wedding day.

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In fact, when I moved back to Cape Girardeau in September, I broke down and got Caller I.D. on my living room phone.

Yes, you may remember me calling Caller I.D. a service for paranoid schizophrenics. I believe I did so in this very column space. I was annoyed by my friends who insisted on answering the phone: "What are you doing, Heidi?"

It freaked me out.

I got Caller I.D. on my bedroom phone last month. A few callers were managing to snag me in there, where I was vulnerable.

Now The Other Half and I have a ritual. The phone rings. We look at each other. One of us goes to look at the Caller I.D. box.

"Unknown name, unknown number," the designated reader says.

"Don't answer it," the other one says.

We answer when a friend calls, but I still act surprised.

I'm not sure if I'll ever regain my fascination with the phone. After 15 years of office dwelling, I think I associate the ringing too much with work.

But e-mail ... that's another story.

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