'Moving' up in the world

By now, everyone in rural Red Willow County should have received new addresses.

No, their isn't a mass migration or house trading going on. Rather, the new E-911 addresses have been mailed to all county residents.

The new E-911 address system isn't something that just sprung up recently; it's been in the works for years. For the uninitiated, the E-911 address will help emergency officials (as well as those not versed in local landmarks) locate an address in rural areas using actual street signs as opposed to "turn at the stone brown church and drive past the old Tucker place or about half a mile. If you hit the old Blake farm, you've gone too far."

The new E-911 addresses make it seem like everyone has moved -- we must notify all correspondents of our new address within the next year. The new address notification card doesn't say you have to send out "new address" cards, but you are asked to include the new address as soon as possible when paying bills, sending orders, renewing magazines.

It's a habit I just can't get into.

Although I've been at my country address for less than three years, that address change was easier. Why? Because we had moved. We have physically packed up our things and moved them to the country.

With this address change, the dishes haven't been wrapped up, the clothes haven't been loaded into suitcases, the toys haven't been packed away for a move. Instead, an over-sized postcard was all it took to throw the address world into turmoil.

Maybe I'm making a bigger deal of this than it really is, but for some, I bet it is a big deal.

How about those older residents who have lived on the family farm their whole life, only now it looks like they've moved into the big city?

How about those businesses in the country, which will have to change all their stationary, their businesses cards, their truck lettering to reflect the "move" to a new address?

How about small children who have just mastered their current phone number and address? This is the problem at my house.

My kindergartner came home from school earlier this year with a certificate noting his most recent accomplishment: memorizing his phone number and address. In an emergency (or more importantly to order things from a catalog), he could recite his address from heart.

After congratulating him on his achievement, I asked him to get the mail. He returned with a thick pile of mail, which happened to include a postcard from the sheriff's office noting our new E-911 address.

I didn't have the heart to tell my son that he was going to have to memorize a nearly all-new address -- and a complicated one at that.

Granted, the new addresses are meant to give logical, strategic directions for -- heaven forbid -- an ambulance rushing to my house, but the old addresses seemed a lot more practical.

If you lived in the country, you likely had a Rural Route at the beginning of your address. If you lived in the country, you likely had a box number, following a numerical order on your road.

The new numbers seem random and my nearest neighbor doesn't even follow in order. Our last names have more in common than our addresses -- they have four letters, we have five (close enough).

If I had to guess (and I am here), the new address is based on your location times the number of people living at your house divided by the length of your driveway plus the amount of the tip given to your postal person during the last holiday season. But that's just a guess.

-- Ronda Graff has been giving out her new E-911 address about 2 percent of the time, but she has the feeling she's giving the wrong address 62 percent of the time.