In honor of The Sun’s fiftieth year in print, we’re revisiting topics that have appeared in past issues and reprinting some of the original responses. “The Telephone” first ran in our January 1990 issue.
— Ed.
When I was sixteen, I had a landline phone in my bedroom, but I shared the number with the hair salon my mom operated out of our house. My calls were always being interrupted by people wanting to schedule haircuts or my nosy little sister eavesdropping. The only safe time to talk to my boyfriend, Matt, was late at night. I’d lie in my bed with my phone on the pillow beside me, not hanging up even if we stopped talking, even if one of us fell asleep.
