Last week when Steve and I were moving things around in the building that housed my family’s Imperial Dynasty and Chinese Pagoda restaurants, I became fixated on the old telephones that remain.
Behind the Chinese Pagoda’s front counter, its black rotary phone sits on a shelf, a red rotary phone hangs on the pantry wall. I was flooded with memories of answering that phone and receiving takeout orders for curry tomato chow mein, chicken chih-ma sesame and pork polo pineapple.
In the Imperial Dynasty pantry area, a push-button desk phone sits on a small table, next to a sad looking answering machine. I recalled a myriad of multi-taking nights when I scooped out coconut ice cream, tossed salads, and answered that phone, seemingly all at the same time.