The dinosaur in my kitchen is a white — well, a little off-white from age — wall-mounted rotary phone. It has been in that spot on the wall near the door to the living room for almost as long as I have lived in my little ranch house.

Being a thrifty Mainer, I have had this phone for many years. It has always been there for me. It does not need batteries, it does not have to be charged, it has no dead zones as cell phones do.

It is solid and dependable, and unlike touch-tone phones, you can use it when the power is out.

But my real affection for this vintage phone is the big part it has played in my life.

The voices on the other end of the line have been bearers of good news and bad news. It has been my lifeline to family and friends. It has brought me joyous news of engagements, marriages, the births of babies, graduation and promotions.

Of course, there was also sad news over these telephone lines. The deaths of family and friends, divorces, illnesses, job losses, and financial troubles. I have called 911 on this phone when my husband had his first heart attack, and the paramedics saved him.

How could I not be grateful to this device? It was there when we needed it.

My best memories of my antique phone are my husband calling me from work just to see how my day was going, as this meant he was thinking of me.

There have been and still are long chats with family and friends over these telephone wires. World affairs are discussed and we have commiserated over the state of the country. Confidences have been shared, and we have consoled each other through tough times.

Conversations with family and friends many miles away have kept me connected to these people who mean so much to me. We have listened to each others’ triumphs and trials, and tried to be supportive.

Plans for taking a walk, going to the beach, taking a trip, going out to lunch or a movie are all a part of my connection to this phone.

It has always been there solid and dependable, it is part of the fabric of my home. It knows my secrets, my hopes, my dreams and my despair.

So many words, so many years. It has been so faithful to me through all these years.

Please don’t take my rotary phone away.

– Special to the Telegram