A poster at one of my work places states, “Life is for Making Memories.” I would change it to say, “Life is for Making Quality Memories to Savor in Old Age.” So that when we are sitting in our wheelchairs in the twilight of our lives forgotten in some run down nursing facility we have something worth reflecting on. When I first started this I was concerned that I was lacking in quality memories to relive as I sit, urine soaked, in my “golden years.” However as I took the time to look back, searching for those misty edged visions that make me smile, I began to remember several wonderful little glimpses from my youth…
I was young, still in my teens, and for some unknown reason I was not driving my ’69 Mustang, but rather my mom’s Oldsmobile Delta ’88, a huge tank-like vehicle in a color slightly brighter than OD green.
And I had a date.
She was a beautiful, petite, young woman with a stunning smile.
We had started as classmates moving towards friends and I hoped we would become much more.
I was nervous and I wanted it all to go well.
I don’t remember our plans for that evening or even if we followed through on those plans. Were we planning some night swimming at Flat Rock Dam? Hoping to catch a movie? Hanging with friends? Or just being together?
I do remember picking her up from her mom’s apartment high on the side of a hill, Mountain View Apartments, maybe?
I visited with her mom and little brother before w took off for those mysterious plans. As we headed into “town” I realized needed to fuel the ‘beast’ so I stopped at a convenience store, Circle K I think, the very store that shows up in several of my misadventures.
After gassing up my mom’s land-barge, my date and I walked into the store to get sodas and to pay for the fuel. Reaching into my back pocket my heart froze, my wallet was at home. I had wanted everything to go so well and be so nice that I had…
I’m embarrassed to say…
Moistened my cash with a spray bottle and ironed the dollars flat and crisp and after folding everything neatly in half I hadn’t returned my wallet to my pocket.
So, on my wonderful date, I left that beautiful young woman with the stunning smile at the convenience store as collateral.
As collateral, really?
She and I dated for a while after that night, the gas station debacle was not our last date. Since I don’t recall an argument ending our relationship, I tend to believe that we drifted apart…perhaps I failed to call as often and we each found others to fill our time, but we never stopped being friends.
That is one memory that while outwardly appears negative I look back on with a fondness for it means I lived, loved, and laughed at times in my life…and who can complain about that?
Memory... is the diary that we all carry about with us.