...And That's My Opinion©

By Sandy Goldman

The Rogers Park Community Curmudgeon




One of the gifts I received this past Christmas was a Rolodex card/address holder.  They come in two kinds. There are the carrousel type and the flat box type.  I was given the flat box type.  I’m not sure why someone thought to gift me this unusual present.  After all even though it was old, my current one worked just fine.


“But,” said my guidance counselor, “It’s over forty years old.”


“You’re over 40,” I protested, “And I don’t get a new you.”


“Right,” she responded, “But I’m neat and presentable and up to date with no frayed corners and my cover isn’t broken off.”


Well, score one for the counselor.


Updating any kind of address book {including those “little black books”) is truly a ride down through memory lane.


Do we still need the veterinarian’s phone number? Our last dog died about 18 years ago.


And here’s an old school chum who was in the chimney business and repaired ours after the tornado ran thru Rogers Park years and years ago.  Is he still in business or for that matter still alive?  The phone number is wrong anyway.


There are four or five business cards of carnival operators and merchandise purveyors. The last carnival I chaired was in 1982.


I found a multitude of phone numbers of furniture store buyers, which brought back fond memories of days gone by. But would I reach anyone at Polk Bros., Goldblatt Bros., Wieboldts Department Store, or Levitz or John M Smyth. Would those still in business remember that skinny kid who called on them?  Better yet would they care?


Here are many dear friends from cards A to card Z who are no longer alive.  Their names and memories remain etched in the permanent Rolodex of my mind – I don’t need the cards.


An accumulation of tradesmen – painters, plasterers, electricians, plumbers, refrigeration repairmen, furnace repairmen and on and on.  Each person’s name conjured up a specific devastating day. Like the day the entire ceiling is a second-floor bedroom fell to the floor, the result of a thawing frozen pipe in the attic caused by a workman who failed to latch a window in the attic.


Would I be calling Wally Phillips again? I don’t think so.


There was the lady, from whom I used to buy those great imported cigars…but I quit smoking them several years ago.  That card brought back a delicious but sad memory.  I still miss those cigars.


The list is long:














As for the title—it has nothing to do with the story. But it did get your attention—didn’t it?


...And that's my opinion.

And I'm Sandy Goldman

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