Phones on a wall

I remember the phones on the wall. It was a day in March. A month, that until then held no significant to me and will now forever be, the month.
I was aware that I should tell people. I was old enough to have people of my own to tell. I don't recall how I paid, but I stood against the wall, in amongst the wall of phones and called someone.
I told the person on the other end. He's brain dead they think. He's dead they think.
And I recall being aware of the momentous event and my place in it. Small and sad.
Nothing more then.
I was surrounded by people who were leaning against that wall of phones. Some with good news, some bad, some mundane.
All with someone to tell.
Today I have a wall of people. I lean against them when I need to tell someone.