Address books

My mother's address book is packed away in a box of family stuff up in the attic. After she died, we needed the book to let all the people in her circle know, and for the next few years I referred to it to send notes to some of her friends. They are all gone now, yet I still keep the 4x6 inch book with a bouquet of flowers on the cover. Other than some recipe cards, it's the only thing I have that's written in her hand. 

I can picture her at the dining room table with one of that book's predecessors and a stack of Christmas cards. Sending those cards took a long time. Notes were written on the inside, the envelopes addressed and then secured with Christmas seals supporting some charitable cause. She used some type of coding system in the address book to track who we got a card from and who we sent cards to. Every decade or so the book got replaced because there were lots of changes to those already in the book and people to add. 

A new address book used to make a lovely present and I remember giving and receiving some special ones. Over the years the books got larger, more elaborate and included spaces for birthdays or other things folks might want to track. Nowadays most people use technology, including programs that remind you a special day is coming up for someone.

During the 1980s and 90s I used one of the popular calendar products that fit into a 5x7 3-ring leather binder that zipped. You had your choice of how you wanted the calendar pages – day, week, month – and then at the back of the packet were there A-Z tabs. Each year I would replace the calendar pages and discard the new address section rather than transfer all that contact information. I still have those pages of names and phone numbers, though the binder and calendars got tossed long ago. Like my mother's address book, they are full not just of names, streets and cities, but of memories and stories. They remind me of when one niece moved to Toledo, a nephew to Indianapolis or of a friend now forgotten. 

This subject came to mind because I am moving. Again. This will be my 12th move since college. Somehow that feels lucky; however, my sister-in-law and a dear friend have told me I can't move. They have no more room on the page for a new address for me! During the process of packing I may just take a minute to open that family box and dig out my mother's address book and flip through the pages. I'll remember the women in her church group and those who were part of 'the girlfriends coming over for pinochle.' There will be cousins I've lost track of and a few of my dad's co-workers who occasionally visited him in the nursing home. I'll smile. Maybe I'll even think about tracking down someone in there.

There is no street listing for Memory Lane, but it’s an important place to make note of and visit occasionally. Perhaps this musing has triggered a similar nostalgic journey for you, Perhaps both of us will reach out to connect to someone once important and whose contact information was faithfully recorded on a page or in a file to bridge the gap of years. That’s a nice thought with which to start the week.

Marilyn