Tuesday, June 23, 2026

ME and MY MOTHER’S FALLEN ASIMONs

 

ASIMON: A token (from Greek: ἄσημον ("ἀ-σεμον"), "without a sign", in the language of the Sages) is a means of payment that was used for using a public telephone. The token is a non-negotiable currency, and its price was updated from time to time. The token was inserted into an appropriate slot in the public telephone to make a call from the device.

 

There is an expression in Hebrew, “the ASIMON finally fell.” It means a major realization had finally illuminated one’s consciousness. {הָאֲסִימוֹן נָפַל}

This expression harks back to the clinging sound of the metal token falling into the slot the moment someone answered the phone on the other end. If no one answered, you weren’t charged and the token would eject and be returned to you to use the next time you made a call from a public phone.

 

Time was when regular coins were used to make calls. Rapid inflation made it impractical, and pay phones were re-fitted to accept special tokens, “ASIMONs” only. You could buy them at the post office and use them no matter how much the charges increased, similar to the “Forever” first class stamps of today for physical mail.

 

Most young Israelis have no idea what an ASIMON is. They’ve never seen one. Goodness, they’ve never used or seen a public pay phone. Whole articles in Hebrew exist on the interwebs to explain the expression’s origins. Once the young’uns read these articles, their ASIMON would also fall, or cling, and they’d realize why this odd expression exists.

 

A time will come when postal stamps and perhaps postal service will also have to be explained. Denmark has just ended their postal services for physical letters, and Sweden no longer has cash money. The physical reminders of what once was continue to exist as collectibles, perhaps to be sold on eBay or some such.

 

When I cleared up my mother’s belongings, I found that years after their demise, she had held on to a bagful of ASIMONs.  I kept a few because the tangible, touchable, handleable still matters. In the same way we may keep a hairbrush of someone who has left this world, even keeping their strands of hair still in it, I hold on to these ASIMONs.

Why?

I will not sell them on eBay. I don’t need them to explain the Hebrew expression regarding an important realization, as the digital virtual net does a fine job of that.

 

I need these physical metallic objects in my life to testify that I didn’t imagine what was. It really was part of the world, my world, just like all the other things both inanimate and living that have left it and exist as memories and legends.

ASIMON= Israeli token for pay phones

{The Hebrew date on them corresponds to 1966}


4 comments:

MirkaK said...

The ASIMONs remind me of the tokens used at turnstiles in NYC subway stations decades ago. They were discontinued in 2001. Now, like everywhere else, the transit system has transitioned to a contactless payment system which requires riders to tap a credit card, debit card, or smart device. I once used those tokens but have no idea what happened to them, if I ever saved any. I don't think they were as interesting-looking as the ASIMONs. But since they're different, maybe Israelis would find them interesting.

Vijaya said...

How wonderful that you have a few of these tokens to remember the past. We are incarnational beings and we value the physical object. You might know about Catholics venerating relics (bones or clothing touched by the saints). At first, I thought, how odd, but when I think of how much I value my mother's necklace and her saris because they touched her body, it is the same with the saints. And speaking of saving hair--some of the friars at the monastery where St. Maximilian lived, kept his beard when it was shaved because they knew he was a saint. He was killed in Auschwitz.

Evelyn said...

Interesting topic, Mirka. I'd never heard of "ASIMONs."

Barbara Etlin said...

Vintage items like ASIMONs can make history more real and less abstract to the younger generation. I have a few art deco pieces from my grandparents and my father's Eames chair that I won't sell because they remind me of the people who used them.