Oh it happens to the best of us, we even try those computer-gizmos with the addresses and birthdays and yet the old Rolodex is what we return to every year for Christmas cards and plumbing calls. For a while we neatly print the new additions onto index cards and file them neatly alphabetically in place. Then a few times we stick the scribbled scraps directly into place with all the best intentions of writing them in. Then we pull out cards, change addresses, phone numbers, husbands and wives names as life moves on for others while our trusty Rolodex is still in the same spot for twenty years. Full. Full to overflowing. And one day we remember or spot the cards or a brandy-new one in the store, or maybe just happen to reach and drop and spill the contents of the old one all over the floor and the decision is finally made.
Except that now more decisions crop up; what’s the chop-off date for some of these? Ten years? Twenty? Or just don’t remember who the hell they are?
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology