Saturday, November 26, 2005


Memories can be beautiful --- if you have them. I can't seem to remember anyone anymore. Is it the multiple places we've lived or age that makes me forget?

Someone will come up to me and speak in a friendly and informal manner. I'll turn to Ruth after they leave and say something like:

"Do I know them?"


"Who are they?"

"Remember we went over their house with the Kelly and Jerry?"

"Who are Kelly and Jerry?"

"They were the ones we bought the dining room set from, remember?"

"We never bought a dining room set from a Kelly and Jerry. Sounds like an ice cream store."

"Yes we did you just don't remember."

And I don't. I can't remember anything. I'll go downstairs to get something and then stand in front of an opened cabinet staring blankly into it's shelves. What am I here for? I retrace my steps thinking that it will jog my memory but frankly I can't remember where I came from.

Sometimes I go out and arrive at a store and call Ruth:

"Ruth, what am I here for?"

"You went to get a pack of 4x6 cards."

"Okay, thanks." I hang up.

That's why old men sit in rocking chairs on their porch. They are afraid to go out, they'll never find their way back home. That's me in a few years.

As I said before, I never repeat myself.