It struck me, of course, that a current friend would have no reason to know that I had started a thousand blogs. Then, a week later, a much-newer Illinois friend said that I ought to start a blog and share my thoughts from time to time. First, a distant friend commented on a Facebook post that decades later he still remembered one of the first essays I had ever shared. I always heard that you can never go back, but for the first time I am giving it a shot, and after $1.51 worth of bananas, I am now happily questioning that premise.Īmong the cardboard boxes and mental/emotional somersaults that come with moving, three things happened. But maybe, every once in a while at least, it can happen for some of us when we shift this camper-van called life into reverse. For others, that means the exact opposite. I guess we all want to be Norm at that Cheer-ful pub in Boston, and as the song shared, have a place to go where everyone knows your name, and they’re always glad you came. It surely made me feel good to be recognized after all these years. I will never know how it feels to be considered physically attractive, but there may be some benefit at least to having a physical appearance that is, to put it kindly, distinctive. You imagine all that, and in the meanwhile I can tell you for certain something that feels really good: To be remembered. Then, imagine that you needed some bananas and went to the grocery store and got into a short checkout line staffed by a face that you recalled and that when it was your turn the kind man with Juan Carlos on his nametag looked at you with a bit of a furrowed brow and said, “Hey buddy. Then, imagine that in your late forties you left to pinball around the country for several years before moving back to Malibu, let’s say, a few days ago. But imagine for a moment that you grew up in small-town Arkansas and then moved to the Gulf Coast in your late twenties, and then to glittery Malibu in your late thirties. I always heard that you can never go back.
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