Emergency Pull Boxes

This morning I got a jolt of nostalgia as I passed an emergency pull box on my way to work. Do you remember the tall red pillars with ornately designed cupolas, centrally located on large streets? As kids we were warned never to pull the lever unless there was a real emergency. "There is a hidden camera that photographs anyone playing around with the pull box," I was told. "If you needlessly summon emergency services, they will track you down and throw you in jail!" Suffice it to say, those emergency pull boxes commanded reverence and respect, and I would walk by with diffidence, naively believing I was on camera.

Time went by and pull boxes slowly went the way of the dodo. As I rounded a street corner in Boro Park this morning, I encountered one last oddment of an era. How ironic? The object I once venerated was now abjectly standing like an old piece of furniture, abandoned at the curbside for disposal. Its once vivid red paint was now faded, barely discernible. Someone had ripped out the mechanism, and the now defunct pull box became the neighborhood trash receptacle. As I contemplated the scene, a sense of longing washed over me. How I wish I can turn back the wheels of time to my simple childhood, when emergency pull boxes held such prestige.