Copyrights reserved by the author. If you are in doubt, please click on 'Copyrights' and read the details.I would offer an apology if I could only remember whom I insulted By J. G. Fabiano My wife tells me most every day the biggest problem I have in my quest to survive myself is I rarely pay attention. I know she is right because every time I lose track of the reality around me I get myself into trouble. Now I am not saying I am stupid. I teach chemistry and have worked with DNA bioinformatics. But, asking me who called on the phone ten minutes after the call was made is difficult. This lack of understanding some phone calls could be important drives my wife nuts. When she gets home she asks if anyone called. I usually say no only to figure out later her sister called to tell about some important arrangements about a holiday get-together I forgot was about to happen. I don’t blame my wife for getting mad at me but I explain to her this is the way my mind is wired. Of course, she then reminds me about the concept of short circuits but by this time I find it better to hide. Forgetting phone calls is not the only thing I forget. I have a difficult time remembering names. This is very disconcerting to the person I am talking too especially if he or she thought they were good friends. I even forget my relative’s names. My wife saves me because every time there is a family get-together or party I stand near her when we enter and reviews who is there and what their names are. She also reminds me of how they are related to me. The concept of remembering who is a cousin, aunt, or uncle is above and beyond my comprehension. The most embarrassing part of these interactions is when I am talking to a relative and I forget the names of their children. I don’t know why but when someone discovers you don’t know who little Sarah is or how many kids they have you basically become a leper. I try to worm my way out of the situation with a smile that is misconstrued as sarcasm that relegates me for at least one year to the back corner of the dinner table. As a teacher I tell my students not to get angry with me or think they are unimportant because I forget their names. I tell them there is a good possibility I will know who they are sometime after the first of the year. Even then I sometimes call Sam, Dan or Kathy, Alice. My principal admonishes me by telling me this situation is very unprofessional and I should take some kind of a class to help me remember names. I would if I could remember where she told me the class was to take place. A few years ago she gave me an appointment book so I could record the meetings I was supposed to go to throughout the school year. It worked well the first week but ever since I lost the book the concept of remembering where and when I was supposed to be has been impossible. I even wrote down all the dates of my meetings at home on a calendar so my wife would know when I would be home late. This has worked out well but since I lost the appointment book at school I usually find out about missing a meeting or an important date when I get home from school. This is a difficult time of year for me. There are many holiday parties my wife and I are invited to. I fear walking into a room especially if my wife does not know the names of the other people at the party. I usually stand there and smile even when I am with a group of people. I nod a lot and sometimes even work into the conversation as long as there is little possibility I have to address anyone by their first names. To say I forget birthdays and anniversaries is an understatement. If you asked me how many birthdays I remember I would have to tell you two. Forgetting my wife or my daughter’s birthday is synonymous with stuffing one’s head into a pencil sharpener. My wife, on the other hand, remembers all important dates. I do not know how she does it other then the fact she has to make up for my total incompetence. The only responsibility she gives me is to remember to go to the post office to mail out the cards. On a few occasions I found those same cards stuffed in my brief case many weeks if not months later only to blame the post office for their incompetence. Money spent is another problem I have. If I have twenty dollars in my wallet on a Monday morning, by Wednesday morning I would be left with about two bucks. I have no idea where the money went and because of this I never allow myself the responsibility of carrying money. This drives my wife crazy because she can’t understand how anyone could not know where their money goes. I tell her I am thrilled I can remember where my wallet is none the less where the money is. Needless to say my remarkably efficient wife takes on the chore of handling our money. The other day I actually scared myself because of my lack of concentration. Since it is the season to shop and my wife has all of my daughter’s and my Christmas gifts wrapped and put under our tree I thought it best to get some of my shopping done in order to have some presents display her name. It was remarkably cold that afternoon and after I parked at the mall I impressed myself because I remembered the number of the lane I parked my car in. I now do this every time I go to a large parking lot because how many times can one call AAA to find a lost car. I fumbled around the stores for about an hour picking out some items I knew my wife wanted. For the past few weeks I kept a piece of paper in my wallet listing all the items my wife talked about. I thought this a great idea and with the knowledge of where my car was parked I thought I was doing well. After I picked up the presents I left the mall only to realize it was colder then it was when I drove in. I looked up at the large numbered signs on the light posts and found the number of the lane I knew my truck would be in. Pushing my hat over my brow and folding my scarf around my face I walked over to my silver truck. Wouldn’t you know it; my key would not turn in the lock. I was totally aggravated with the thought my truck’s lock had frozen. I played with the lock for about a minute and then banged my hand on the door in total frustration. After I found out a cold hand is a hand that hurts when you punch something as hard as a truck I noticed some movement in the truck. At first I thought I was seeing things but when I brushed some of the frost from the window I saw an elderly lady staring back at me. She had two of the largest eyes I had ever seen. Then I realized her eyes were big because I was scaring the hell out of her. I can clearly understand why she was so afraid. Outside the truck was a man with a wool hat over his eyes and a scarf tightly wrapped around his face was trying to break into where she was sitting. My first thought was why she was sitting in my truck. Then the realization that the reason my key did not work was the truck I was attempting to enter may not be mine. I then looked up into the wind and saw a second silver truck directly in front of the one I was trying to break into. I stared back at the woman hoping I did not scare her to death, waved, and simply expressed, ‘Ho, Ho, and Ho’. My wife tells me most every day the biggest problem I have in my quest to survive myself is I rarely pay attention. I am convinced my wife is not the only person who knows this. I just wish I could remember who they are! The End.
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