My Father's Voice on His 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.

Pastor Meeter wrote this morning with a similar story:

My father-in-law died from multiple mialoma almost three years ago. His distinctive voice is still what I hear whenever I call my mother-in-law and she's not home. His voice is the one who gives the outgoing message on the answering machine.

What I would give to have a recording of my own grandfather's voice. His voice was unique, he spoke from somewhere back in his throat, but high in the back and yet low in front, and with his distinctive Amsterdam accent, which he could never shake, having immigrated at age 16, and never wanted to shake, being an Amsterdammer. I think it's why he so loved to visit us in Brooklyn, because it was the place in America most like Amsterdam.