A writing teacher once gave this assignment: on seven different index cards, write the seven most important stories of your life. I tried. I took it seriously because I really liked this teacher and really liked the class, but all I could come up with was a fuzzy vision of my grandmother teaching me to baste a turkey and a few gruesome scenes from Oliver Stone war movies. Everyone else in the class was listing and scribbling and misting and I was pretty sure it wasn’t about the time they clipped their big toenail and it shot into their eye. I think I’ve always had a problem with neurons and trying too hard.

Then there is the issue of index-cards. Perfectly 3 x 5 and upright in their box, they promise efficiency and organization but have never paid off for me in any