Year 4 Quickie - what I forgot today - Me

We were at a local county office where my wife had an appointment early today and I used the chance to visit with one of my former staff who now works in that building.  By luck my former staffer was coming out of her office as we were heading toward it, and following the ensuing hug-a-thon, we sat and got caught up.  Later, Jackie and I were getting ready to head out, a supervisor stepped from her a office and my former worker called her over and asked if she remembered me (from meetings, etc. when I would visit that office). The supervisor did not and asked what I did in Albany County.

I had no idea what I did.  There's another post on here about my forgetting the name of a co-worker who I had seen in a local store.  But then I knew what she did, at least, and eventually her name showed up in my brain cells, long after she was gone of course.  This time, even with a few prompts from my staffer, I still could not say what my job title was (Employment Coordinator) or what I did.

The odd part is that most nights I dream of being in that Albany County building and doing that job, but always with the dream thought that this has or will soon end, but I can't leave the building.  Literally, every attempt to get out of the building (noting the end of my career or a time that I'm "helping out") is thwarted by losing my car, being harassed by the local vocal yokels that every large organization has, or simply the doors keep moving.  Ever have dreams like that?

And yet that internal version of my old job, buried deep in my psyche may be the only thing that attaches me to it sometimes.  I pulled out one of my old business cards (collector's edition - only a few left!) and reread my name and job title:

Thomas Martin - Employment Coordinator-Albany County DSS

I know what I did.  I do now.  But its like another little part is being chipped away, a part of the past. It's back in my head, restored by the Elmer's glue of memory to where it is supposed to be.  I am well aware that this will happen again.  I've seen it already with my father.

That part of the workaday world has been gone for over two years, and I wouldn't mind dispatching most of those 30 years to oblivion.  But there's still a lot to hold on to, and it was there in our hug-a-thon this morning.  My memory of my staffer's family was completely gone, until she started to talk of her kids.  Boom. Everybody is back.

Look, I am not one to ask for help. I know I will have to, more and more.  Here's the first request.  Please remind me.  I'd be very grateful, even if I might remember some of it already. And sometimes I will be cranky about it. Tell me again. I will do my best to hold on to it. And you.

Hey! 2500 visits! Thank you all for coming.  More soon.

Sorry About That, Whoever You Are

I saw you at Marshall's Home Goods in Clifton Park on Friday.  You, a person I had worked with for six years.  You, a person with whom I chatted amicably no matter what was going on in the office.  We had our differences, but it was never personal.  We had fun.

I just wish I could remember your name.

I never go to Marshall's, but I'd just left the movies (Spiderman [yes, go see it]) and was getting ready to head out of the mall, but a few more minutes in air conditioning wouldn't hurt, and you know, Marshall's has all kinds of stuff.  You never know what you might find.  Like New York Mets uniform tops.  Not T-shirts.  Uniform Tops.  Plus other T-shirts - Even a Yankee shirt (Mickey Mantle) which I'll wear when I head to Cooperstown on Tuesday - stay tuned for that.

So there I am walking around Marshall's, made it through the store and stood in line, listening to the screaming children and complaining adults.  I turned and saw you, looked without actually looking (glancing around at things, look back, glance around, and look back).  You were there with a friend/relative, and what passes for a brain now in me said "Yea, that's um, um......."

Now when I tell other people this, I always get, "Yeah, and I misplace my keys. Means you're getting old."  Yeah, I'm getting old (and grateful for it).  And yes, I walk into rooms and forget why I'm there.  But when you live in bipolar/MS world, and everything is foggy, drugged up or not, you take this as a given, all the time.  A very touching story I read recently was about this gentleman just diagnosed with MS who realized that whenever he kissed his spouse in the morning, he would say "wife". He thought it was just as one of those cutesy things, as his wife did.  Wasn't.  It was the man reminding himself that this was his wife.

So instead of going through the embarrassment of walking up and saying hello, and making it quite clear I was fumbling for a name, or even if you noticed me and came over and started the conversation, I had to hightail it out of there.

Of course, I didn't remember who you were until I was out in the parking lot, and said your name out loud.  Fortunately, no one was around to hear me.  And I figured you were long gone, so no point going back.

To the car and home, thinking about it.  I spoke of small fears in a previous note here.  A major fear is that I would be at one of those very rare family get togethers and I would forget who is there.  I would forget my own family.  Like my father did.

One thing I know is I do treasure those people I worked with, that hardy band at DSS.  More on this and the trip to Cooperstown.  I'm soloing.  I still remember the way.  I think.