Day 71/365 It’s time to go, Rolodex

    We certainly don’t need two of these; in fact, even one is almost obsolete. My address book is on my phone and computer; if I need a commercial telephone number I go immediately to google and there it is. When my car needs a tune-up, the number for Patriot Automotive Service appears in less than twenty seconds.

    However, my mother’s file box of addresses and telephone numbers is another story. It is a sweet, sweet snapshot into her life with my dad, beginning soon after they were married. On file cards, Mom recorded marriages, births and deaths (and sometimes jobs) of everyone they knew over almost fifty years of marriage. If they sent a Christmas card (and they sent many), she wrote the number of the year, and when they received a card back, she circled the number.

      Over the years Mom culled the box, removing the cards of those she had lost contact with. Most likely they were people who hadn’t kept up, or who had died, for you see, my mom would never have been the one to cut off a relationship.

     Of course she never threw any cards away. When the wooden file box got too full, she bought another one. Toward the end of her life, when sending Christmas cards became too daunting a task, some of the file cards ended up in a plastic bag. That was when she was 98. She decided that it was okay not to send cards any more. It was one of her ways of letting go.

     I’m thinking that this winter I will go through the box, remembering, reminiscing and learning. But I’ll never let go of one single card. In due time, I’ll pass the boxes and bags down to my daughter, who, like her grandmother, loves the U.S. Postal System.