Don't You Remember Me

Don’t You Remember Me?

This will be the most excitement I’ve had in years, possibly decades. My favourite band from when I was a teenager is playing a reunion concert in a city about two hours drive away from where I live. It is certainly well worth the drive. I have so many great memories of the boys and I going to those concerts. We cheered loudly, sang along with the songs that we knew so well, and we even danced in a circle as a group together. Members of the band would smile at us, at least that is how we read their faces when we danced.

I wonder if any of the old gang will be there at the concert. I figure they will be so if they are still alive. I have not seen or spoken with any of them in decades. I moved away to start my career as a carpenter with my uncle Fred’s' business. Most unfortunately, that spelled the end of my relationship with those so-called friends of mine. I got married to Martha a few years afterwards, but because I lived fairly far away from their (once my) city, not one of them came to the wedding, even though I asked all of them to come. I suggested in a letter that they did not need to give us any presents. Their presence would be enough. I truly meant it.

Martha was my life, but she died two years ago. Our children and grandchildren seemed to have prefer her to me (not that I totally blame them). Unfortunately I visit our children and grandchildren on rare occasions. I have to invite myself. They do not even ask me to visit them anymore.

As I drive to the place of the concert, I think of the boys, now old men who I hung out with at the concerts. Bryan, Ralph and George are the three old boys my forgetful old man’s mind lets me remember. I hope that I can remember them by sight. I had thought to stick a copy of my name on the baseball cap I will be wearing, something I did a lot when just a lad. However, that seems to be a little extreme and somewhat unkind to me regarding the state of their memories. It might be okay to think the critical thoughts about some old person’s lack of memory. However, it would not be so okay to wear that thought for all to see that you think of them as having lost a chunk of their minds.

Arriving at My Destiny

The place where we listened, sang and danced to the music of this band is still standing. It is a bit run down to be sure, but aren’t we all like that by now. I am just glad that it is still a place where I can hear good music. I don’t see anyone smoking outside the building like my friends and I did when we went to those concerts. We also sometimes smoked inside the washroom, both at concert halls and in or high school.

As soon as I got into the building, and paid for the concert, I saw that there were a lot of chairs on the floor. I guess if I meet up with my buddies, we might not be have room to dance in any circles on this night.

I begin looking for them, walking up and down the aisles trying not stare. I do not see the boys, but I see Martha. I even remember her name. I fancied her for a while, but she gained herself a slick boyfriend before I even made a move. She looked over at me, smiled a big smile at me. She then shouted out, “Is that you Jack?’ I responded by saying, “I’m pretty sure it is. I am certainly dressed a lot like me.” She laughed, and walked over to me, and gave me a hug, and said, “I’m sitting with some of the old girls. Have you seen any of the old boys?”

I told her that I hadn’t yet, but I had just started looking for them. “Good luck Jack, good luck. I know that it means a lot”.

It was only a few short minutes when I saw him – Bryan, my best friend in the good old days. I ran to him, almost tripping and yelled out his name. He looked at me with a stunned stare with not a bit of recognition. I suddenly knew that he did not know who I was. So I declared, “Don’t you remember me?” The stare continued, then he turned and walked away shaking his head like I had lied to him. I could not believe it.

I decided that I could not let the forgetfulness of the boy now a codger who was my former best friend destroy this return to my good times with the band’s great music and the excitement that went with it. I sat down on the most outside chair, not wanting to be surrounded by strangers. I don’t think I’ll ever come back here again.

Dancing to the Music

The band began playing one of my favourite tunes from the early days. I had a strong feeling that I should not just sit there the whole time the song was being played. I had to get up and dance. So I sprung to his feet and danced in a not very wide circle quite close to the chairs. I engaged in two circles with people I did not know cheering me on, just like in the ‘old days’.

Then I heard an even more welcome sound: Bryan’s voice.

“Jack, I want to dance with you like we used to do in the old days. It looks like you haven’t changed a bit. I’m sorry that I did not recognize you earlier, one of the problems of significant age.

Bryan then virtually rose from his chair, gave Jack a bit hug, and started dancing with his old friend. They sang along with the songs as well. After the music was over, they headed straight to the bar that as teenagers they were too young to enter and drink. Lying about their age had never worked. Bryan’s home was a short distance a way. It was where he had lived as a teenager. Jack moved to the city of his youth. His friendship with Bryan, along with a few others, was renewed.