Calling Card

UPDATE: I have lost Mark’s card…

As a master hoarder of all things historical and not-as-of-yet-historical, there is a secret pleasure in collecting calling cards. We know them better today as business cards.

Yesterday, I received four cards, possibly five, if one should include the double-side card.

The farthest came is from San Angelo, Texas. It was handed to me by this fella and his wife, whom I invited to visit the saloon where we were gathered for a post-funeral wake.

That is what happens when one drives up, asking, “Why is everyone dressed up so in period-piece?”

(Most id the people attending the funeral procession we’re dressed in mid-to-late 19th-century western wear.)

Nice couple. Small world.

Mark and I learned we have an odd crossing of personal history…

• He was born in Sacramento, the same as my brother.
• We each had a great Uncle that worked in the aerospace industry, namely Rockwell-Rocketdyne. His in Texas, mine in Los Angeles.
• Each of our Great uncles brought us a small poster from Virginia City, Nevada when we were kids. The short poem “My Job.”
• And finally, we both have family in Oklahoma, where he and his wife live.

That is the value of a calling card, and yes, I will use the older vernacular in this case, and why still I maintain that a ‘stranger is really a friend you ain’t met yet.”