My flaws are many, this I will readily admit , but one that causes me much grief, is my inability to remember names, or, indeed, recognize those I have known years ago. It is not through indifference, lack of desire, or even absence of serious attempts to remember names using mnemonics, or other such techniques. Names, simply fall into some dark void where, try as I might I cannot retrieve them.
This was evident when I was in Kingston, my home town, last weekend. I was standing in line to pay for a purchase at a second-hand store, when the man behind me turned to comment on the folk art carving of a chicken I had in my cart.
“I’m buying it for a friend who lives just outside the city, and owns chickens” I explained
“Funny,” he replied “I have a friend outside the city who also owns chickens”
Turns out we both were talking about the same person, and indeed the man I was talking to was someone I had known socially thirty years ago. Mentally I went through all I remembered about the younger him.
I recalled he was friendly, funny, thoughtful, and intelligent. For a very brief while we had a mild flirtation that came to nothing, and, when I moved away, our friendship faded.
I smiled at him and asked how he was, and what he ha been up to. I did not expect his answer.
He was upset that I had not recognized him, mocked our mutual friend, was bitter about how his life had turned out, blaming a wide range of people, and was disparaging of my former career as a teacher, calling all teachers ‘overpaid bullies’.
I was stunned! This was not the gentle, witty man I remembered, the one who always found the best in every situation, the one who carved me a unicorn horn when I laughed about searching for one.
We lapsed into silence after his diatribe. I could think of nothing to say. Quickly I paid for my puchase, and with a mumbled, “good to see you” hurried from the store.
Driving home in a driving rain, I thought about my interaction with him. It seems that I had not reconnected with a friend. The man I remembered was nowhere to be seen in the man I met. Indeed it was if I had met a stranger.
A Year of Strangers 
How sad that a man you remember as fun & light hearted had grown into a bitter man with a heavy heart. How unhappy his life must be to have burdened you with his tirad. They say we can never go back….your meeting up with an old friend I guess is just proof of that old saying.
LikeLike
That’s the thing about living … we lose touch with old friends but we also lose the connection that made us friends. After the first few minutes of “remember the time we …” awkward silences often descend … and I suppose we wonder why we saw this person as a friend. Broken relationships … meaningless jobs … illness … poverty … family loss … different paths taken lead one to want to engage with strangers and the other disparaging mutual friends and career choices.
Or it could just be living in Kingston. As a visitor you probably see the beauty and grace of the city and remember fond times. As Kingston has grown in area and population it has shrunk in mindset … graduate from Queen’s … and then try and find a fulfilling job in the city. Watch as old business fold because of huge chain outlets. Not a lot of art … culture. The only thing the city thrives on is too many restaurants and too many photographers. But try and find affordable housing. Did you know that the city boasts not one … not two … but three tent cities? Every problem common to big cities seem to be exaggerated because of Kingston’s limited resources to respond.
Now I have always enjoyed Ottawa … I see it as the best city in Canada … and I am looking forward to a housing conference there next weekend … I envy you as a resident … trips to art galleries … museums .. the canal walkways .. scenic drives …. I would love to live there. But you … you probably know more about gangs and drugs and shootings that are just headlines to me … and they may affect where and when you walk …
So you old friend is just that. Forgive him his small display of meanness. Perhaps he has always held you in his mind as a significant part of his life … and was very hurt because you did not remember him as he remembers you. Just as a point of order, it seems that HE did not recognise you … as it took some conversation about mutual friends to figure out who you both are. Were you hurt?
Lock him in your mind vault and remember how happy you were to to receive a unicorn horn … forget five minutes of rudeness. By the way … when you say you were looking for a unicorn horn … was that the hunt organized years ago in Kingston where clues were released to find a hidden unicorn horn? Or just a personal quest? Seems worth a story in itself.
Geeze Louise. I just read this. Wanted to drop you a note of encouragement and ended up writing a novel. Sorry. But I do enjoy your tales … as a writer struggling with a major novel(writing it … not reading it) I am greatly impressed by your composition style but more so by the heart and soul you display.
Keep up your mission. It is worthy.
As a side note … how could anyone mock M & A and their chickens?
LikeLike
Yes indeed, it was that famous “unicorn hunt” though the reasons behind or author of the quest is lost to me. I do remember though searching at LeMoines point for it , where it was eventually discovered. Nice to know that at least two of us remember it. As for who YOU are I am quite at sea… fitting of course, given my admission at the start of this blog post. The fact that you know M&A means we share a group of friends and that I should probably know you so perhaps another apology is in order. I am on Facebook if you’d like to reconnect.
LikeLike
I often wonder what happened to my childhood friends … makes me think that I should continue to think of them fondly rather than possibly discover they have become bitter, broken people.
LikeLike