The Goodbye Line
BACK STORY
Many years ago, when I was pondering writing a novel (before I actually wrote four of them) I had a “Eureka!” moment where I thought of what would be the perfect plot device. My nascent novel would feature a pay phone booth. It would follow the different people who used this pay phone booth. It seemed like a good idea at the time, although I never followed through with actually sitting down and thinking up a plot that would involve these fictional protagonists.
That book idea has died a grisly death. So have pay phone booths. A recent statistic informed me that just ten years ago each state had about 27,000 pay phones. Fast forward to 2025. The California Utilities Commission reported that as of March there are only 2,525 active pay phone units in California. Four hundred and eighty-four of these pay phones were located in Los Angeles County. In Los Angeles there are only 149 remaining pay phones. Out of those 149 pay phones in Los Angeles, only 20 were operative.
Pay phones have given way to cell phones and my novel idea has died with the changing times. But never fear. A couple of clever artists, Alexis Wood and Adam Trunell, came up with an idea far more creative than my novel idea: the Goodbye Line.
THE GOODBYE LINE
The pair—who are a romantic duo as well as a professional team (Wood is a documentary filmmaker)—have placed stickers on the phones that say, “Yes, this pay phone works” and have invited random individuals to use the phone free and leave a message. Their pitch: “Some day these will be gone, like me, you, and everyone else.” The message went on to invite passers-by to leave their (free) message “before it’s too late. Saying goodbye is such a part of life. It’s all us coming and going, coming and going. We all share that. And it makes it less lonely, less scary. Not that it makes it easier.”
Trunell, 46, and Wood, 37, emphasize that the Goodbye Line was not rooted in any sort of personal loss. But the calls have reduced Wood to tears, at times, and left the pair pondering how to intervene if the caller seems to be saying goodbye to life. One call, coming in from the Hollywood corner of Yucca Avenue and Wilcox Street, read: “Goodbye, Donny. You were my love from 2017 to a few years ago. But you died last year, and I didn’t know for a long time. It makes me very sad.”
Another caller voiced an emotional goodbye to her mother, who died when he was a teenager, saying, “You thought that I might kind of squander my education,” said the caller, recalling that their last conversation had been an argument about his grades. “I love you, and I miss you, and this has been a long overdue goodbye.” And he hung up.
ALEXIS WOOD & ADAM TRUNELL
The callers have the opportunity to state that they want their words kept private. Otherwise, Trunell and Wood transcribe the conversations and post them on Instagram and social media. Trunell says, “You kind of just walk into this and realize how all this feels. It just sort of happens. The reward is unexpected connections, and reminders of your own humanity. I’m worried about my folks dying, but I don’t think how it’s going to change me. This just feels like a very human project. It takes you out of whatever b.s. is going on.”
One particular phone booth, set along the Chaney Trail, produced calls from people (hikers) saying good-bye to their previously unfit selves and opening the door to their new svelte selves. There are, of course, some drunken calls. And, occasionally, there are disturbing calls, like the one that Wood describes: “It sounded like a kid, and it was a super brief message, and you don’t know if it’s serious or not.”
When asked what caused the two to start the Goodbye Line, Trunell said, “Initially, I wanted to hear people’s voices. I wanted a place where we would get to hear people saying things.”
A PERSONAL APPEAL
Call me. (Isn’t that a song?)
Me, too.
I recently wrote to my best friend (whom I had called, but not reached) and declared, “I NEED A PHONE FRIEND.” I grew up in the era of land lines. I like nothing better than a discussion about current events, politics, movies, or, really, anything. In today’s society (as a former phone friend informed me) all the ‘cool kids’ text. You are considered an oddity, a fossil, a freak if you’d like to actually TALK to someone.
And, of course, I don’t mean sharing health hurdles, but conversation with like-minded individuals who, ideally, share 50% of the duty of carrying the conversation on to a level that we both enjoy. One potential phone friend, my sister, never leaves her house, doesn’t own a car, and currently doesn’t have a driver’s license. She was perfect because she literally never goes anywhere. When you phone others, they are at work, or out shopping, or otherwise engaged (making dinner, reading, watching TV, etc.). Some of them have let me know that they just don’t have the time or inclination to be my “phone friend.” If I didn’t “get” that when it was articulated more than once, some have rattled frying pans or clinked glasses or otherwise let me know that I am bothering them and they are much too busy to be my phone friend.
That is sad, for me. And it is sad for humanity, because, as Adam Trunell said, I, too, wanted to hear people’s voices and other people’s opinions—probably why I went into journalism in the first place in 1963.
If you would like to be my “phone friend” and have time for a conversation on any topic of your choosing, send me a note (via e-mail) and let’s have at it. (I’m not close enough to California to find a pay phone and make a call and, besides, that would be a one-way encounter, which is not my intention.
My only sibling, I had to cross off my dance card. Perfect in so many ways (see above). But she interrupted repeatedly AND within five seconds.
I asked, politely, that she let me finish one short sentence. One of our first cousins had just died, unexpectedly. I had called to share this news. Despite asking politely that she not interrupt for five seconds to let me get that message out, it didn’t help. She said, instead, “If I don’t say what I’m thinking immediately when I’m thinking it, I won’t remember it later.” O…….K……
I gave up on her as a phone friend, a loss because she is, after all, my only sibling and, secondly, how many people do you know who never leave their house at all? (That would be none, for me). I finally had to point out that phones do work “both ways.” I moved on down the road. We haven’t spoken in months.
So, with the loss of the sole phone friend with plenty of time to talk, I am open to new phone friends, and I want to put that out there for anyone reading this who knows me. How would you reach me? Write me at [email protected] and we’ll figure it out.
And let me end this piece on the death of land lines (which work so much better without recharging) and pay phones with the words of Todd Martens, who wrote about the Goodbye Line in the Los Angeles Times. It’s a fascinating article and one that ends with this well-written paragraph: “An underlying thesis of the Goodbye Line: Its existence is a reminder of life’s impermanence. As much as it encourages us to say goodbye, it’s also a nudge to never stop picking up the phone to say hello.”
