I miss the old mailbag into which columnists of yore would dip from time to time for readers' comments or updates on their prior work. Mailbag is a good old name, and I'll miss it when it's gone. Of course, the same kind of information still comes via e- or voice-mail. So, from the e-voice-bag:

"This isn't criticism," Ken Morse of North Easton, formerly of Norton and Mansfield, writes about "Cruising in a baby blue Bentley," my column of Sept. 9 about one of the cars owned by the late Rathbun Willard, founder of Metals & Controls, "but I have a different recollection of the Bentley's actual color. I can't picture it as baby blue, but recall it as much darker, perhaps navy blue."

Morse knows whereof he speaks. Starting at M&C in 1955, a few years before the firm merged with Texas Instruments, he began taking night classes at Northeastern University a few years later.

"Mr. Willard's driver, also a student, had class on one of the same nights as myself and several others. M&C was very pro-education, as was Mr. Willard, of course, so if one of his cars was available, his driver often used it for our school trip. The Bentley was occasionally available and we would make the trip in style."

But Morse notes that another of his cars "was much more of a curiosity than the Bentley." It was a Volkswagen, a rarity on the streets of Boston in 1957 and '58, a couple years before the first dose of Beatlemania. He also worked on the Bentley in his part-time job doing body repairs at Haskell's garage on Pleasant Street and recalls touching up the car with dark blue paint. He concludes - consolingly, I think - "Baby blue did make a swell story."

Dark blue remembered as baby blue? Seems my memory is fading in a literal sort of way.

A friend in North Attleboro called with a ponderable question about identity theft. Why, she asks, are senior citizens encouraged everywhere to guard their Social Security numbers, yet under current policies they can't escape having their full SSN on their Medicare cards.

If U.S. Reps. James McGovern, Barney Frank, U.S. Sens. Ted Kennedy, Sen. John Kerry or any of their staff members is reading this, how about getting to work on it? If relatively small Internet startups can solve the number safety problem, the federal government can, too.

"Envying Woonsocket - at last" (Sept. 10) brought a surprising number of responses, including one from senior reporter Rick Foster, who worked there for a time and advised us about a culinary delicacy, indigenous to Woonsocket, known as dynamite.

Actually, "beerandynamites" was more often said, as this sandwich - a zesty concoction of tomatoes, hamburger, peppers, onions and whatever else you want to put in - "was almost never spoken of except in combination with beer."

Foster found the city exceptionally friendly and saluted its ethnic diversity. Still, the city's humor is most often associated with literal translations from Canadian French. Foster's two favorites: "Throw me down the stairs, my hat" and "Next time you go through my yard, you go 'round."

Gretchen Robinson of Attleboro recommends checking out "the American French Genealogical Society in that fair city" in the basement of Woonsocket's First Universalist Church.

And a Woonsocket resident of 34 years who baby-sits in North Attleboro thanked me for pointing out some Woonsocket attractions she was unaware of and added one of her own favorite things about the city: An automated trash removal system, apparently similar to the one recently voted in in Mansfield, that keeps the city exceptionally tidy on trash day.

Bea Peck of Attleboro, who's been working to improve my manners since I was a Second Class Boy Scout, pointed out - in a courteous way, to be sure - it was inconsiderate to write about my son Jesse's serious accident aboard a commercial fishing vote in "Young man and the sea" (Sept. 5) and not let the curious know how he's doing. He's back to his home in Wellfleet and his recovery appears to be going well, though there are some lingering aches and other problems and he won't be ready for heavy work for some time to come.

Ray Slone of Hindman, Ky., who was the subject of "The groundhog's tale - for a belated Father's Day" on June 24, passed away at the beginning of this month, several months after being diagnosed with cancer.

A celebration of his life on Oct. 4 was - as befit this giant of the southeastern Kentucky traditional music scene, both as player and teacher - mainly musical. People who've got their names on recordings were joined by the mostly amateur Pickers and Grinners group Ray occasionally joined for Wednesday night jam sessions, and by other folks who sang along with tapes or played a song. Slone, whose greatest talent, and joy, was to unlock the gift of music for others, would surely have been pleased.

His funeral the following day ended, almost too fittingly, with a rendition of Slone's original composition for fiddle, "Lament for Appalachia."

MARK FLANAGAN is Opinion Page editor of The Sun Chronicle. He can be reached at 508-236-0335 or by e-mail to mflanagan@thesunchronicle.com.