Tom gave me a ticket stub organizer for Christmas. It’s a handy, dandy place for me to keep and reflect on the remnants of events we’ve attended and enjoyed over the years.

You probably aren’t surprised to learn I like this sort of thing. After all, I’m a memoir writer. Though early in 2020 the events of 2019 are indelible in my brain, it will really help to have a physical representation–a photo, a program, a ticket stub–something to jog my memory years from now.

I’ll need that physical representation when the nuances of personal and performance highlights aren’t as vivid and precise:  Kirk’s commencement at DePaul University in mid-June; the matinee performance of Hamilton we saw the following day in Chicago; the second time I sang The Star Spangled Banner with the Phoenix Metropolitan Men’s Chorus on the field at an Arizona Diamondbacks ballgame; and our spectacular New Year’s Eve on the main floor at the Phoenix Symphony with friends Len and Adele.

But I have this sinking feeling that ticket stubs are quickly becoming passe. So 2019, you might say. Sure, they aren’t gone entirely. Yet I don’t imagine we’ll be seeing many in 2020 and beyond. I think it’s likely that someday in the not-too-distant future the ticket stubs of 2019 will become relics, dinosaurs, dust collectors. The “dance cards” of 1919. The “flash cubes” of 1969.

My hunch is based on a few recent online ticket purchases. One for a performance of Beautiful, The Carole King Musical at ASU Gammage in Tempe. The other for a Major League Baseball Cactus League game later in February in the Valley of the Sun. In both instances, physical tickets (to be mailed or picked up at Will Call) weren’t offered as an option. I was required to purchase mobile tickets and keep them in two separate apps on my phone in two virtual wallets where they can be scanned and accessed securely.

Of course, I recognize the value of mobile, as long as I don’t lose my phone. I also recognize I’m old school or old-fashioned. Perhaps just plain old. (For instance, it won’t astonish you to learn I prefer to read a book in hardback or paperback versus on a Kindle.)

Still, it feels like a loss. Say goodbye to our paper trail to the past for the sake of convenience and progress in the present. Rest assured, I’ll do my best to adjust, stay relevant and smile … while I hold onto what’s left. Torn ticket stubs. Melting memories. All of it.