What ever happened to ….
Anna who used to cook the chili at my dad’s bar?
Lowell who inspired an oft repeated phrase from our childhood that I still use today and no one has a clue what I’m referring to when I say: PULL UP YOUR PANTS LOWELL!
The Barnes’ who used to live next door and we would go and knock on their door and ask for treats.
Bonnie, who lived down the street, had a child at a young age, who’s dad wasn’t always very nice. Her mom who for some reason seemed old, but I don’t think she was. She moved away. How is she and the “baby” who would now be decades old.
Lawrence, the best paper boy our city had ever seen. He delivered our papers for years. When others took over it was never the same again. No one did the job as well as he did, nor for as long.
George, the mailman. He was so tall, skinny, so pleasant and proper. His uniform always just so. He set a standard for postal service people in my eyes. A very good standard.
Kimmy who grew up across the street from me. In the green house, catty corner to us. At least for a few years. She moved to Toledo. I went to visit once and watched my first (and probably only) ever ice hockey game. I fell asleep during the game and woke up when someone was cheering. To find I was cheering for the wrong team.
Leslie who lived a couple of years in the white house in the other direction catty corner from us. There seemed to be a lot of people moving in and out of that house. I don’t even remember that much about her.
Kara who I worked with after my divorce. Her husband was an assistant district attorney. She was scared because he was looking in to jobs that other people had been killed in for taking a stance against crime.
The guy who hired me, found out I was newly divorced, and set up a splendid little valentines surprise for me when he sent me to his apartment to pick up something he “forgot”. When I got there he had put candy and flowers and flower petals all over the place where I was instructed to get what he “forgot”. I can forgive now, the bounced paychecks, because of the kindness he showed me.
The young boy in my grade school class who called me names. I remember him for how he was, and wonder what he’s like today.
The young guy who worked at the Telemarketing place where I worked. The one who told dirty jokes and made sure to point out I was too modest and motherly to ever consider these jokes being funny to me. Some of them weren’t. But it wasn’t because of me.
The priest who said our masses when we were children, who would “wave” to us during the procession up and down the aisle of church. Who tried to wake me up when I fell asleep during mass, who turned 60 when I was in grade school and I made him a “Sixty Years” clock card to resemble the “60 Minutes” tv show.
Dale the janitor from high school who gave me Tab to drink at lunch. And Mr. French from grade school with his dark hair and strong presence, I always felt safe with him in the building.
Flashes. I get flashes from the past of people I’ve passed on my way to here. People who I may have shared a moment with, or shared many moments with. They left an impression of some kind. When they flash across my thoughts I can’t help but wonder, where are they? Who are they? What have they become?
Did I? Have I?
Left an impression…..I wonder…..do they wonder?