In Praise of the Humble File Cabinet

We still own several file cabinets. I know, I know, everything should now be stored electronically, so who needs them? But there’s something to be said for being able to easily find a hard copy of a document without having to pay homage to the almighty gods of internet security. Honestly, I think there’s far more security risk from bad actors infiltrating my laptop (and these days, even the cloud) than from them breaking into our house to root through paper files.

Don’t get me wrong. We take care of most of our business online because, well, the mail is not what it used to be and in many cases, it is easier and more efficient. But if we need an invoice from an appliance purchase or a rabies certificate for my dogs so they can visit a retirement facility, I open a drawer, look for the file labeled “dishwasher” or “pets’ and voila, there it is. No trying to figure out if I saved it on Dropbox or Google Drive or in some obscure folder on my laptop and then hope the printer is feeling cooperative and will dutifully spew out said document.

With file cabinet storage, I do not have to know the middle name of my husband’s paternal grandmother or wait for a text from a robot to access a piece of paper that is strictly my business alone. And heaven forbid you make a typo on a password or reverse a number of that magic code you’ve been sent because then you’re doomed and will have to wade through a chat box conversation (“Susan is typing…”) or worse, make a phone call, involving any number of gates controlled by disembodied robot voices just to prove you are who you say you are!

But beyond storage of the mundane, the cool thing about my file cabinets is they hold history. I can open a drawer and find a hard copy of my great-great-grandmother’s story of fleeing the Confederates during the Civil War, see wedding pictures of family ancestors, examine a deed to a property written in the flowery script of the mid-1800’s and find copies of railroad articles written by my dad. Yes, I’ve scanned some of the most important and fragile documents into my computer, but when I want to write stories about family history or the town where I grew up, I can spread those documents out on the desk in front of me.

The physicality of holding those papers pulls me into the lives of those who came before me in a way that viewing them on a screen just can’t replicate. When I need writing motivation, I just open a drawer, pull out a file, and there’s a story waiting to be told.

I can remember years ago when my school district was remodeling buildings, teachers were encouraged to take old file cabinets that would otherwise be destined for the landfill.

Found a friend with a truck and brought two home that I’m still happily using to this day. I do periodically purge them and took a carload of paper to a shredding event last spring. But when we recently made a change to an insurance policy, I could lay my hands on a specific document that the company could no longer access electronically without “going into the archives.” Made life a whole lot easier for everyone.

I’m keeping my file cabinets.