The Old Phone Book

He threw it away. How was he supposed to know that his father would want to keep that old phone book?

But I look up my friends that way, his father said.

Dad, that was 36 years ago.

I don’t care.

So he drives down to the library and makes photocopies of the old phone book. His father will be grateful, but it is like reading torn pages from someone else’s Bible.

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I acknowledge that I live and work on stolen Cowlitz, Clackamas, Atfalati, and Kalapuya land.
I give respect and reverence to those who came before me.