Here’s something to try while you’re self isolating – memorizing phone numbers.
In times of emergency its best to be prepared in every way imaginable. You need rations of food and water, candles and secondary heat sources, flashlights with extra batteries, a charged phone/laptop/tablet, as well as a list of phone numbers. And not so much a written list as an important mental rolodex.
Growing up with a rotary dial phone and even the advanced push button phones from the 1980’s, we punched everyone’s number out individually, thus committing them to rote. Frequently used numbers are likely still impressed on your brain. Grandmother McCarthy was 834 2381, home was 834 5705 and the beer parlour was…. (you know we’re not admitting that – LOL). But Mark Geehan’s was 834 – 3161
“… impressed in your mind…”
With today’s automatic dialing options, we hardly know a single number, let alone the most important listings needed during this kind of emergency – family and friends. I first noticed this when I lost a phone and was left without any means of contact while living in Vancouver. A scary situation that inspired me to start physically thumbing out all the important numbers on my phone’s keypad. To this very day I never use a contact list to dial my parents, any of my brothers, nor all of my closest friends – As a result, I’ve memorized all their numbers and can therefore reach them from any phone at any time.
It’s good to be prepared, not only for emergencies, but also for great “human” stories like this;
When we first moved home from Vancouver, my wife decorated the downstairs family area with an entire wall filled with framed photographs from our years together. The very first photo captured our dear friend Erin O’Mara (Missus from the band ‘Biscuit’) posing with her cohort, Canadian superstar singer ‘Bif Naked’
“… Canadian superstar singers…”
Erin and I lost touch when we moved to Vancouver – but I still remembered her old number, the same one I’d dialed on so many occasions back in the day. Well, “low and behold” if she didn’t answer the phone and commenced with a chat that was every bit as familiar as our last. After a half hour I suggested she stop out for a visit. With some convincing she finally agreed, asking for our address.
“Well my maid – you’re not going to believe where we’re after setting up camp. Right down in the valley on Waterford Bridge Road!”
“Really?” she asked. “What number are you at?”
“101” I said. “Between Sherwood and Nottingham Street.”
She laughed in reply;
“You’re not going to believe this but I’m living at 115 – be right over!”
