Things I Remember
I was just reading a blog post asking what you remember. I remember everything. Well, that's not true. I remember everyone, and everyone's stories.
I remember that girl Nikki from second grade who had a little brother Tony and then abruptly moved after the year was over. I remember where we were sitting when you told me how you and your husband met, and where we were standing when you told me why he spells his name that way. I remember the lattice design in front of my grandparent's kitchen sink in Queens, and the pebble-y feeling on my white baby lamp.
I remember my blue Pinocchio book bag that I took to baby nursery school on the farm in MA. I remember the pattern of the flooring in elementary school, and not just because I threw up on it standing in line for gym in first grade, the day we were going to drive to New England for vacation (we still went). I remember second grade, when Julie and I had the same turtleneck with trios of balloons all over, and that I wore mine with purple corduroy pants. I remember Keri asking to be excused from class in fifth grade, so she could go call her mother to bring her a different outfit, after arriving at school and seeing I was wearing the same one.
I remember laying at the top of our staircase next to our dog and talking to her about what she saw out the living room windows that faced our street. I remember being spotted for a back handspring in gymnastics and one of the coaches criticizing me, saying "Every time you get up here, you have a shit-eating grin on your face," and feeling thoroughly crushed that she didn't share my enthusiasm for the greatest sport ever.
I remember when I figured out which identical twin was Heather and which one was Jennifer. I never sorted out Evan from Brian, but remember that one of them won best looking, and thinking that was funny. I remember Heather offering to go tell Charlie I liked him during travel camp the summer before ninth grade. I remember Charlie was nice enough to talk to me about it, and how he explained on the bus that he didn't like me, because he was busy liking Jill. I remember not censoring my answer and bursting out with, "Why? She's such a bitch, to everybody!" and Charlie shrugging his shoulders. Later that summer Jill broke up with her boyfriend and Charlie did get to go out with her. Then he dumped her for being a mean person.
That was the same summer I went to Los Angeles for the first time and I didn't see any famous people.
I remember when I worked as a cashier at Foodtown on Long Island in ninth grade, and I sneezed and my customer said the customary god bless you. As I looked up to say thank you, my words trailed off as I saw the person blessing me was a priest. I remember at that same job, seeing my social studies teacher whose class I'd cut that day, buying apples. I remember that one of the front-end managers at Foodtown was named Marguirite.
Two years later I was working at a shoe store in the same strip mall. I don't remember doing this, but do remember my mother telling me she'd seen Marguirite at Foodtown who'd told my mom that when she came into the shoe store I told her, "You always used to help me; now I finally get to help you!"
I remember that when my father would bring me to work with him, whether I was seven or 17, my mother would always call me there, so I'd have gotten a business call at work. It was the time I went to work with him at age 17 that I remember him taking me to lunch. That was the day my father taught me that if there's nothing on the menu you like, you can ask them to dumb down something, as long as it's on the menu. I have used that tactic ever since, and it's worked well for me.
I remember when I was 22 and working at a law firm, when a temp named Lisa saw our boss, a mean partner also named Lisa, and asked how she was doing. Lisa the partner replied, "Fine thanks, how are you?" and started to hurry on her way but was forced to stop as Lisa the Temp actually answered her question.
I remember at that same job when Andrea dropped the keys to her brand new car down the sewer grate, and that Lisa the Partner never let me come to departmental meetings, even though I was part of the department. I remember the girl I trained to take over for me after I'd given notice was named Pia.
I remember when I had to call my boss at the tennis club to tell him one of the tennis pros had sexually harassed me the night before, and that he said, "Why?" and I was embarrassed as I answered, "I guess he liked me." I remember all the free tennis lessons other pros would give me when the club was quiet, and how I got a thrill out of using insanely expensive tennis racquets laying around for said impromptu lessons even though I wasn't a "tennis player."
I remember everything. Just not anything actually important.
I remember that girl Nikki from second grade who had a little brother Tony and then abruptly moved after the year was over. I remember where we were sitting when you told me how you and your husband met, and where we were standing when you told me why he spells his name that way. I remember the lattice design in front of my grandparent's kitchen sink in Queens, and the pebble-y feeling on my white baby lamp.
I remember my blue Pinocchio book bag that I took to baby nursery school on the farm in MA. I remember the pattern of the flooring in elementary school, and not just because I threw up on it standing in line for gym in first grade, the day we were going to drive to New England for vacation (we still went). I remember second grade, when Julie and I had the same turtleneck with trios of balloons all over, and that I wore mine with purple corduroy pants. I remember Keri asking to be excused from class in fifth grade, so she could go call her mother to bring her a different outfit, after arriving at school and seeing I was wearing the same one.
I remember laying at the top of our staircase next to our dog and talking to her about what she saw out the living room windows that faced our street. I remember being spotted for a back handspring in gymnastics and one of the coaches criticizing me, saying "Every time you get up here, you have a shit-eating grin on your face," and feeling thoroughly crushed that she didn't share my enthusiasm for the greatest sport ever.
I remember when I figured out which identical twin was Heather and which one was Jennifer. I never sorted out Evan from Brian, but remember that one of them won best looking, and thinking that was funny. I remember Heather offering to go tell Charlie I liked him during travel camp the summer before ninth grade. I remember Charlie was nice enough to talk to me about it, and how he explained on the bus that he didn't like me, because he was busy liking Jill. I remember not censoring my answer and bursting out with, "Why? She's such a bitch, to everybody!" and Charlie shrugging his shoulders. Later that summer Jill broke up with her boyfriend and Charlie did get to go out with her. Then he dumped her for being a mean person.
That was the same summer I went to Los Angeles for the first time and I didn't see any famous people.
I remember when I worked as a cashier at Foodtown on Long Island in ninth grade, and I sneezed and my customer said the customary god bless you. As I looked up to say thank you, my words trailed off as I saw the person blessing me was a priest. I remember at that same job, seeing my social studies teacher whose class I'd cut that day, buying apples. I remember that one of the front-end managers at Foodtown was named Marguirite.
Two years later I was working at a shoe store in the same strip mall. I don't remember doing this, but do remember my mother telling me she'd seen Marguirite at Foodtown who'd told my mom that when she came into the shoe store I told her, "You always used to help me; now I finally get to help you!"
I remember that when my father would bring me to work with him, whether I was seven or 17, my mother would always call me there, so I'd have gotten a business call at work. It was the time I went to work with him at age 17 that I remember him taking me to lunch. That was the day my father taught me that if there's nothing on the menu you like, you can ask them to dumb down something, as long as it's on the menu. I have used that tactic ever since, and it's worked well for me.
I remember when I was 22 and working at a law firm, when a temp named Lisa saw our boss, a mean partner also named Lisa, and asked how she was doing. Lisa the partner replied, "Fine thanks, how are you?" and started to hurry on her way but was forced to stop as Lisa the Temp actually answered her question.
I remember at that same job when Andrea dropped the keys to her brand new car down the sewer grate, and that Lisa the Partner never let me come to departmental meetings, even though I was part of the department. I remember the girl I trained to take over for me after I'd given notice was named Pia.
I remember when I had to call my boss at the tennis club to tell him one of the tennis pros had sexually harassed me the night before, and that he said, "Why?" and I was embarrassed as I answered, "I guess he liked me." I remember all the free tennis lessons other pros would give me when the club was quiet, and how I got a thrill out of using insanely expensive tennis racquets laying around for said impromptu lessons even though I wasn't a "tennis player."
I remember everything. Just not anything actually important.
Labels: Little Green, Overthinking, People watching, Potential Depth
posted by Green at 6/04/2009 05:43:00 PM
2 Comments:
This was a good post. I remember some dumb things that I committed to memory as a kid, like the names of everyone in my seventh grade English class, and the square root of two up to eight digits.
I remember everything, too, and it's funny, because people who know me always tell me, "You remember EVERYTHING!" My brain is a catalog of useless information. But I am pretty sure it's a sign of higher intelligence. :)
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