A Personal Reflection: Goodbye to 754-3093

Chasing History: Exploring My Ancestral Roots - Blog Post #50

By Tonya McQuade

Recently, my dad had me call to cancel the phone line at their home on Minta Lane. He and my mom are moving to an assisted living facility, and even though he’ll be going back and forth between the two for a while, he said they could just use their cell phones. I also cancelled the internet service and Direct TV, but neither of those carried the same weight for me as canceling the phone number with which I grew up: 754-3093.

We moved to Antioch when I was four years old. My dad had accepted a teaching job at Antioch High School in Industrial Arts, and my parents purchased the house at 2300 Kendree Street. I quickly began meeting some of the neighbors, and soon found myself roller skating with Suellen, Tonja, and Trina who lived next door.

That Fall, I started Kindergarten at Turner School and met my first school friends: Karen (who lived just one street away) and Margaret and Sandra (who were quite a few blocks away). I also met Jamie, whose mom was my teacher, but Jamie was in the other Kindergarten class and didn’t become a close friend until we had the same teacher the following year.

As we grew older and began exchanging phone numbers, “754-3093” was the number my friends would call to reach me. No area code was required in those days, at least if you were calling locally. I can still remember many of my friends’ old numbers, even though I haven’t called them in years. Ask me if I remember any of my current friends’ phone numbers. Ha.

Back then, we had one phone in the kitchen, with a cord that was not very long and a rotary dial. Even when the push-button style became much more common, we still had a “dial phone” because, according to my dad, the “push button type” cost more. I don’t know if that was actually true - I just remember how long it took to dial numbers with 9’s and 0’s like ours.

Talking on the phone in our Kendree Street kitchen

There also wasn’t a whole lot of privacy when you had to talk on a phone in the kitchen. At some point, my parents added a phone in their room, and I do remember sneaking in there sometimes to make calls where I could enjoy some peace and quiet and not worry everyone was listening to my conversation.

When I was in eighth grade, we moved to Minta Lane, into a house that my parents built. Our phone number moved with us – and we added an upstairs phone extension that I could use. Eventually, we got a phone with a longer cord so I could bring the phone into my room. Ah, that felt like such a luxury! LOL. I still had to argue with my brothers about who was or was not “hogging” the phone (it was usually me), but still, there was more privacy than talking in the kitchen.

Of course, kids back then still had limited “phone control.” There was a good chance your parents would answer the phone, so you couldn’t exactly “hide” who was calling you, and callers faced a good chance of having to interact with your parents. Some did this better than others, earning your parents’ praise or “concern.” Young people today, who grow up with phones in their pocket, don’t know how good they have it.

In college, I had to adjust to a series of new phone numbers each year, tied to the dorm room or apartment where I was living. Sharing a phone with roommates was not always easy – nor was settling the bill at the end of the month. “Who made that long distance phone call?” was a common refrain. “Not me,” was the usual response.

Still, through my various living situations in those college years and the early years of married life, my parents were always there if I needed to chat. All I had to do was call 754-3093. Of course, by then, I had to add the area code, which had changed from 415 to 925. And, back then, every long distance call cost extra, so you had to weigh the number and length of your calls carefully. We wrote more letters back then – at least, I know, I certainly did.

I’ll never forget the first phone call I made to my parents from Osaka, Japan, where I had moved after college to teach English. My dad couldn’t believe how clear the call was. He thought I must be calling from somewhere nearby – that I must have decided to return to California early. No, I said, I’m calling from Japan. Truly, the wonders of modern technology, we both thought.

Now, of course, long distance calls are included in most (all?) people’s phone plans; and email, texting, Facetime, and Zoom have changed the way people communicate globally. When Anna was living in Hong Kong and Italy, and when Aaron was living in Japan, I could easily message them, email them, chat with them, or talk to them through Facetime where I could even see their faces and get a look at their apartments or the world around them. So amazing!

I could never text 754-3093, nor could I see my parents when I spoke to them using that number, but that number always meant home. It’s where I knew I could find them. It embodied my early history, my early friendships, my early romances. It was the “permanent” number that didn’t change while so many others did. It was the emergency number I listed whenever I traveled to other countries; the number I called when I had my own “emergencies” and needed help.

Now, if I call that number, I hear that it has been disconnected. My parents have moved on, at least for now, to TreVista Senior Living in Antioch. My father will still be spending time at the house, but he said their friends can call them on their cell phones.

“Are you sure?” I asked. “I’m sure,” he said.

So, it’s time to officially say goodbye to 754-3093. You’ve served the Graham family well for fifty-four years. I'm sad to see you go. May someone else connect with you in the future.

I hope you've enjoyed this blog post - the 50th I have written! Recently, I was excited to learn that my blog was chosen as one of the “15 Best San Jose Blogs and Websites in 2025,” coming in at #10. Check out my website for more information about my writing, to see some of my photographs, and to easily find additional blog posts. You can also sign up for my quarterly newsletter by emailing me at tonyagrahammcquade@gmail.com or by subscribing on my webpage.