When I was young, I liked to think of myself as a pretty memorable person. I thought everyone was so dazzled by my personality that they couldn't possibly ever forget me. I found out how untrue this was a couple of months before I turned 17.
I went to Santa Fe with a small group of other students from choir. We were going to see "The Barber of Seville" performed at the Santa Fe Opera. When we were waiting to be seated, one of the chaparones started talking to this woman I recognized.
The woman was the mother of one of my classmates from when I went to Hermosa Elementary. His name was Tid. I don't remember when I first met him, but I remember his mother coming to our class in the third grade. She was from France, and she was very distinctive looking. I remembered seeing her among the guests of the second wedding I was involved in. Out of the 200 or so people there, she really stood out.
I wasn't really that good a friend of Tid. He had a little bit of bully in him, but it wasn't anything I couldn't handle, so we still hung out together somewhat. After I went to Central Elementary in the fifth grade, I figured I would run into him again in the sixth grade at Zia Intermediate. But I never saw him in school again. In fact, I couldn't even recall seeing him the first two days of fifth grade when I was still at Hermosa, so I don't know when he and his family moved away. I just know it was sometime before the Fall 1975 semester.
So it had been seven years since I saw him when I went to the Santa Fe Opera. When the chaparone had finished talking with his mother, I asked her if Tid was around. She pointed him out among these three people who were nearby. I went up and called out his name. He turned around. He had grown quite tall. I would not have recognized him as the person I went to school with. I also remember he was wearing a pancho at the time.
I re-introduced myself. "Hi, Tid! I'm Fayd Ogolon. I went to school with you in Artesia." He looked at me for a moment with a confused look on his face. He then started thinking, and said, "Oh, yeah! Mr. Ogolon's son."
I couldn't believe this. He remembered my father more than he remembered me. This absolutely shattered my self-image of being the most unforgettable person on the planet.
Tid and I caught up a little bit. At some point during the last seven years, he had been left back in school. He was just going into his junior year as I was going into my senior year. He didn't elaborate on what had happened that caused that. It did surprise me, because I never thought of him as one of the students who would be most likely to have to do a grade over. (Trust me, there were plenty of candidates for that.)
But I was still rather taken aback by the fact he didn't really remember me. As I mentioned before, I ran into my Boys State roommate later my senior year. He didn't recognize me after only six months, and we spent a whole week together with him in the upper bunk.
Every time this would happen in the future, I would get a little upset, because I feel like I put some effort into remembering people. It kind of angers me that others I meet don't put in the same amount of work in trying to keep me inside their memories for the rest of their lives.
So, I have gotten mildly used to this. Just last week, Ms. Ogolon and I went to the wedding of one of her best friends from high school. We had met her fiance at our son's 1st birthday party. We had arrived early for the ceremony at the beach. When we saw how we were supposed to park our car there, I went up to re-park it. The groom had arrived at that time and was right outside my car. I recognized him. But when he saw me, he looked like he recognized me, but couldn't recall where we had met. I told him I was the husband of his fiancee's friend and we had met at Boyd's birthday party. Then he had full recall. I can't really blame him. He had a lot on his mind that day.
Sometimes, it would be nice if I was just able to forget certain people in my past. But then, I wouldn't have much to write about.
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