I was with my grandbaby Colin all day, and most of the evening, this past Friday and, when I got home, there was a package from Books & Books in Coral Gables on my doorstep. I opened it up, found a book I've been wanting to read but haven't yet made time for (no gift message enclosed), and smiled at the idea of someone lovingly (and anonymously) sending me a present: a memoir (one of my favorite genres!) and from, not Amazon, but an independent bookstore, no less!
I asked around with The Usual Suspects, and no one 'fessed up. I continued to smile at the mischief and thoughtfulness of whoever was behind this, and I called the bookstore Sunday in an attempt to track down the mysterious benefactor. M asked me to call back the next day to follow-up with someone in their Shipping Department... which I did on Monday morning, and spoke to K, who was very nice, took down my info, and promised to call me back, which *she* did, about an hour later.
K said she was unable to find anything, but... they did recently mail out multiple copies of Lab Girl by Hope Jahren, related to a Miami Book Fair offer for The Big Read, happening this Spring... and I had a moment of Epiphany/Embarrassment. I truly believed someone had surprised me but, in actuality, I surprised myself, having completely forgotten that I had requested a copy. Ha ha ha ha ha!
I already owned the book and figured that, if I qualified for the free copy (you can get one, too), I'd pass it on to a friend (which I will do tomorrow when I see her... 💝
P.S. As the title of today's blog post, I was going to use I Scare Myself (Dan Hicks and His Hot Licks) or If I Only Had a Brain (The Scarecrow from The Wizard of Oz) but... I had already invoked them in past entries (and yes, I quoted the Ani DiFranco "goldfish have no memory" song lyrics in one of them, too!). Oh f*cking well... 😃
BOOK: Things to Remember That I'll Probably Forget: Notebook for the Forgetful by Songbird Publications
POEM: Memory by Conchitina Cruz
QUOTE: "Time moves in one direction, memory in another." ~ William Gibson
I can't remember his name
but I recall the way he didn't
forget things easily -- what dress I wore
to class three days ago, phone numbers of rooms
for rent on bulletin boards, the crops
of local regions we're made to memorize
in grade four. I never asked him
if he meant to keep these memories he had
no use for, and by choice or not, if he thought it a burden,
his power to remember
and remember well. After all, it meant too
that he always knew the right formulas to use
in exams, and if he forgot (which he never did),
he had all these other alternatives
in mind. I never did bother to wonder
if it was this same sharp memory that made
him know his losses well, from his missing pen
down to the girlfriend who left him, whom he spoke of
in few words but mentioned often.
As for me, I just long for the day when I need
not bluff my way out of a conversation
with -- what's his name? -- an acquaintance
from college, perhaps, or a regular
in my favorite restaurant. If there's one thing
I'm bound never to forget, it's how it feels
to wonder, once I'm out of the house,
if I was able to turn all the lights off, or worry
that I didn't unplug the iron. I've said hello
to actors down the street without being sure
who they are, certain only that their faces
seem familiar. It doesn't even dawn on me
until much later that I'm acquainted
with their nonexistent selves, their characters
in movies I've seen, the titles of which,
well, I can't seem to remember.
I think of the one who sat next
to me in Physics class, the one I envied so,
and I realize I might not even recognize
him if we see each other
now. I wonder who, between us,
is luckier: is it he, with all his recollections
and no way out
of his memory, or is it me, with my guilt
as I gaze at the past,
growing anonymous behind me?
QUOTE: "Time moves in one direction, memory in another." ~ William Gibson
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