Week 28 Theme

Theme of week 28; What’s the one thing you want to be remembered for.

Funny. About five years back I had lunch with my GF’s father, a man I hadn’t seen in 45 years. As a very young man or an old kid, depending on which direction you look at time from, I got up the nerve to ask her out for a bike ride. Her dad scared the hell out of me. He was not an imposing guy, it’s just that he didn’t seem to let her out much and I had the feeling if it didn’t go well she would not be allowed to “play” with me. We went on a long bike ride, something I did frequently but that she did not. I let her lead because she was wearing a very small white tennis skirt. I was well on my way to becoming a young man.

So, over dinner he was asking the sort of question one asks a person they haven’t seen in a long time. Heh, professors trick, my dad used it to. It’s a way of coming across friendly and interested when you can’t remember who the fuck someone is. Both Dr. GF and my dad had like forty years of students who’d approach them like old friends.

I was telling him about being a social worker and I can’t remember exactly what he asked but it had to do with recognition for one’s work. I was chewing on a rubbery cuttlefish, so I had to park it in my cheek “Oh, no, sir, the job was easiest when no one knew who you were. Getting our face in the Paper meant a big screw up of some kind.” He’d been talking about all the shit he’d done that was famous, I hadn’t thought about that. He apologized and said that professors die a slow death if they aren’t awarded shit and publish every now and again with great fanfare. He apologized humbly for his lack of humility.

That story has five more years to it, but it doesn’t speak to the theme. I’m good with not being remembered for anything I’ve done to date. Tomorrow, however, I might write the great American novel or blow something up. Wait, put down the phone, those are examples. My plans for tomorrow involve puttering about then binge watching some Netflix or Hulu. It’s possible I’ll write something, not a novel, I’m sure, it’s damn unlikely I’ll even set off a firecracker. I’m so not armed or fireworked. The only way I could be more not armed is to get naked, not a far cry from how I’m dressed at the moment; in strip poker I could only lose two hands. So, shuffle the deck let’s get this party started. Just don’t remember me for it.