Monday, March 23, 2015

My Address Book

I need a new address book (the inside front cover says November 2004), but I wonder if it would be disrespectful to replace this one with a new one.
Names, phone numbers (from those who still own landlines), and addresses with zip codes would be lost.  Some folks still accept letters and thank you’s and invitations, and I do not trust listing everything on my smart phone.  One accident and everything would be erased. I would not feel too smart.   
Where would I keep the thousand (it seems like a thousand) of user names and their updated passwords and the security questions (where I lied about favorite vacations spots, first pets, and maiden name that do not exist, at least not in this lifetime)?
Sure section “G-H” needs additional pages (maybe I will make note to use “X-Y-Z” since I only have two or three entries in that section). All those scratched out entries document the many travels and the many places my children (whose last name starts with H) and HoneyBunch’s sons (whose last name starts with G) have lived. Arrows point east to west, north to south, just like their lives have done until recently.
Other entries are scratched out because businesses no longer exist, doctors closed their practices, and dear ones have departed this life. My Dad and all of his siblings and their spouses are gone.  Too many of my dear friends are widows now but I have kept their husbands’ names tucked next to theirs. Time has pared down friendships and only the true blue are left.  Newer entries take their place: doctors specializing in all the major organs of my body, hotline numbers to Medicare and Aetna and AARP, and a growing list of birthdates and clothing sizes for grandchildren.
Some entries are embarrassing confessionals.  I have joined Weight Watchers Online six times in the last eleven years and Defensive Driving twice.  Some are sad reminders of the past.  I have my old online info for Borders and Kobo, and for several online military supply stores (the three times my son was deployed, our government did not purchase all of his necessary equipment, so I did). Some are reminders of another life – the name and phone number of my divorce lawyer, the code for the alarm system from my old home, and the names of my kids’ best friends and their parents’ phone numbers when they were teenagers in case they didn’t come home in time for curfew (probably none of these are current).
Should I buy a replacement address book (do they still make them?)?  Would it be callous of me to forget the past? Would it be disrespectful of me not to keep my Dad’s name as a reminder that he lived and that I loved him with all my heart under the “M-N” section?
What if I need the history list of my eleven passwords for my Gmail one day?   

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