Why Do I Remember?

I realized today that since I retired I have been in the business of reviewing the unexamined moments of my life. There are moments that we remember for decades and we aren’t even sure what was important about that moment or why we remember it. That is the business I have chosen, I want to consider it, think about why its there in my head and feel what I’m supposed to feel about it.

Here’s one I’ve been thinking about a long time, at least 30 years.

At that time I lived alone in an apartment in San Diego and I had friends who would meet each Sunday at a cheap little golf course and we’d play and then go drink away the afternoon at the closest, cheapest little bar.

So one day I met a guy who had just moved into my apartment building and I invited him to play golf and he eagerly accepted. Now the guy used a cane to walk or maybe two and at some point I learned both his legs were burned off in a fire but he had metal legs he could put on to approximate walking.

Before I describe that day further, I want to mention a photo of my oldest son at a Bloomberg party. He was 3, maybe 4 and we had bought him a blue and yellow camera that looked like a toy but actually took photos. In the picture, he’s dressed in bright colors and is seated, clutching the camera with both hands. It is early in the day and he knew something very exciting was about to happen but he couldn’t imagine what. Watch a kid for a few minutes. Their faces are so expressive in their innocence it is heartbreaking. My son was ready for the party and for his life to begin and the camera would help him meet the coming moment. All that nervous excitement, courage and apprehension is etched on his face and captured in that irreplaceable image. Now back to golf.

So at the appointed hour that Sunday I went to the guy’s apartment and he said “Come in.” and I did.

He was seated in his apartment wearing red plaid plus fours, an old fashioned sort of golf pants, with a matching sweater. His golf equipment, clubs, water bottle and hat, were spread neatly around him within easy reach, and I knew instantly he had been sitting there, carefully arranging his things for a long time before I arrived. He was so excited, for something I took for granted, that I couldn’t process it. I had to put the moment aside, for 30 years as it turned out, until I could think about such moments. And I swear it wasn’t until after I wrote that last sentence that I realized my golf clubs were near the front door packed with water bottles and packaged snacks. My special golf shorts and my pills are in luggage in my car along with my cane and a bottle of Jameson’s. Everything is set and i don’t leave for my golf weekend with friends for another four days. I’m nervous because I don’t think I can play 18. Hell, I doubt I can finish nine.

Maybe I over-prepared, but God, I’m excited. And I know a guy who would understand.