Front Porch: A line through a name doesn’t stop the fond remembrances

At the back of my family address book, I have 12 pages – one for each month of the year – on which I note the birthdays and anniversary dates of friends and family with whom I’m close.

The top of each page is for birthdays, simply noted, like on the December page: Connie 28. My old friend from high school – we were co-captains of the swimming team – was born on Dec. 28. The bottom half of each page is for anniversaries, such as on the June page: Sara and Chris 24, the day my former work-study student from EWU married. How lovely it was to dance at her wedding and to now count her as a grown-up friend.

As the date of significance approaches, to some, I send quick texts or longer emails, whichever is appropriate for the person. For those of my generation who aren’t so hot about technology, I send a card with a note through the mail, usually using a commemorative stamp of some sort (the Post Office offers lots of them).

I try to pick either a pretty card or a funny one, sometimes sentimental, sometimes a bit bawdy. One of my favorites shows two older women on the cover, with the words “we’ll be friends till we’re old and senile.” On the inside it says “… and then we’ll be new friends again. Happy birthday, old friend.”

I probably send more cards than I do digital messages. For many of my friends, in our older years, we enjoy opening the mail and putting cards received up on the mantel to view throughout the month. Can’t do that with a text.

Not that the list is all that long, but as each month heads toward a close, I check the coming month and write the relevant upcoming dates for the next month on a sticky note, and put it on an upper tier of my rolltop desk so I can check on it often and not miss any dates.

That’s especially helpful for early-in-the month celebrations, often easy to get to too late. This was especially true for my Aunt Augusta, whose birthday was Jan. 1. She lived to be a few months shy of her 100th birthday.

So as June was heading toward its finish line, I turned to the July page, ready to fill out the usual Post-it note reminders for the upcoming month. I was suddenly taken by the number of names that were crossed out, among which was Sandra Zimany, a July Fourth baby, and one of the best friends I’ve had in my life.

A serious student, she did not take a traditional route through life. There was no such thing as a computer science program when she went to college; instead she earned an electrical engineering degree and was marketing manager for Digital Equipment Corporation for 20 years, traveling the world. She married at age 50, doing the whole bridal thing, and we flew back to her wedding in Boston. Wouldn’t have missed it for the world.

She’s been gone since 2011.

Also crossed off in July was Joan Sullivan. New Zealand-born, she married an American sailor during WWII and settled in Florida. Her only child was my friend in high school, and when Michelle was killed in a car accident at age 16, Joan clung to my mother for support. When my mother died, she and I held on to one another.

I would always see her when I went back to visit family, and she came to visit me here. Already a woman of advancing years, she wanted to learn to sail, so we taught her how on Lake Coeur d’Alene. She was fascinated by everything. I always said I wanted to be just like her when I got old.

I’m old now, but the bar was too high. Just for starters, I’ve fallen short on hot air ballooning in my dotage. She was amazing.

July used to be the big anniversary month for those held near and dear – our own, my parents, my husband’s parents, his sister’s, our youngest son’s, our niece’s and a few others. It seems to have been the marrying month.

All names but two on the July anniversary list have been crossed out now (due to divorce or death).

I’m glad I took a few minutes to flip through the pages to pay attention and remember all the people who were important to me and who have died. Like John and Pam Close, married on a Dec. 7. John was a college friend of my husband, sharing the college experience after military service in the early 1970s. We had so much fun at the lake with them. They’ve both died – Pammie in 2017 and John in 2019.

I know this experience, this loss, is a common thing for all of us baby boomers and older folks. The circle gets smaller.

For so many people held dear in our lives, there’s nothing left but memories and lines through their names in an address book. It doesn’t feel like enough.

Voices correspondent Stefanie Pettit can be reached by email at upwindsailor@comcast.net