You Must Remember This

Of all the indignities visited upon old persons because they didn't die sooner, their faulty memory is the one many people find most amusing. Everything from the unzipped fly to the lost glasses perched on the forehead or the return to the front room with the glass of ice without water. The list is endless.  But the remarkable thing about your memory is that it contains multi-thousands of tiny chambers that old timers can often visit and bring back scenes with the brilliant clarity of a Norman Rockwell painting (who is Norman Rockwell?  Never mind, the man could paint). The number of years in the past when the chamber was filled is irrelevant.

For me, driving past a 7-11 market might trigger a call-up from the deep recess of my brain an incident that happened sometime around 1955.  Young and married with a couple of kids and just enough money to buy a bottle of cheap whiskey for the Friday night party with friends.  Late in the evening the ice runs out and I go for more to a close 7-11.  The ice is in a large chest outside the store next to the drive-up parking spots. As I lift the lid of the chest I catch, from the corner of my eye, the image of a woman waiting is the car parked next to mine and a thought flashes to my mind.

What if the ice chest housed an Ice Monster that lay in wait for half-drunk humans?  To grab them and rip them apart?  So I leaned deep into the chest and then jerked back, fighting off the monster with my left hand while making grunting sounds. Then I dove head first into the chest with my legs kicking as I fought myself back out, clutching the bag of ice. Then, not looking at the woman, I slammed the lid down and lurched into the store.  From the corner of my eye I saw her slumped over laughing.  When I returned with the ice the car was gone.

Don't ask me what I had for lunch.  I can't remember.