A friend posted the following on Facebook:
Shoutout to everyone who can still remember their
childhood phone number but can’t remember the password they created yesterday.
You are my people . . .
Here’s the scary part: I DO remember my childhood phone number: WY3-5579 (WY was short for Wydown). Our family had that number until we left St. Louis in 1969, when I was 17. Why in heavens name can I still remember it?
That got me to thinking that if none of my younger sisters remember it (they were 14, 11, and 4 when we moved to Connecticut), I would be the only living person who does. That was a sobering thought. But as luck would have it, my middle sister wrote back quickly that she does remember it. Amazing. Even more amazing is that our youngest sister knew it, too. She also remembered our maternal grandmother’s (whom we called “Nana,” the name I took when I became a grandmother about a year after she died) number, which can spell out “PAJAMAS.”
As for remembering recently created passwords…well, that is hopeless. I have a spreadsheet (password protected, of course) on which I store those.
The Washington Post included and article entitled “To selfie or not to selfie? Why the joy of getting vaccinated is drawing backlash.”
At the beginning of the pandemic, I had a rather stark conversation with my pulmonologist who basically told me that I had to do everything I could to limit potential exposure because I would not survive this infection. So, needless to say, the opportunity to be vaccinated was very much welcome. Yet, although it has been over two weeks since my second dose, nothing really has changed. We still do not feel comfortable traveling to visit our children and grandchildren, none of whom have yet been vaccinated.
Today marks one year since our last visit to Sharon, the weekend of February 28th to March 1st, 2020. The twelve of us had Shabbat lunch together. Barry and I have distinct memories of our discussion about the virus that afternoon, and at the time our children thought we were being our usual overly cautious worrywart selves. I sure wish they had been correct!
Meanwhile, may the next month find us further along this dark road towards some light.
Love,
Rebecca
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