Today I received a phone call at home from my friend, Sarah. We’re really good friends but I rarely see her because she’s attending school out of town. She called to asked me where she could buy New Years tickets for the big event my friends and I are gracing with our presences, and I asked how she tracked down my home number.
It was easy, apparently. She knew my last name. She looked it up in the phone book, and found only four or five Walsh’s listed. She figured she’d try them all, so she called the first one, Lance. He happens to be my uncle who lives across the road from me, although I rarely ever talk with that family.
She asked if Candice were there. My aunt replied, “Sorry, you have the wrong number.” Then she called out to my uncle, “What’s Wince’s number?” My father.
Just like that, she tracked me down.
Ah, the joys of small town Newfoundland.
Plus this scene from the local watering hole: four of my cousins, from different sides of my family, lined up for shots at the bar. Relations are a beautiful thing.