Uncle Roger's Notebooks of Daily Life

Remember Me?

I sent off an e-mail to someone I worked with ten, fifteen years ago yesterday. Her reply started off "How could I forget you?" I don't know why, but I seem to be a memorable person.

This is something that has confused me for a very long time. A long time ago, I worked downtown and took the streetcar to and from the office. Every evening, I would leave the office, walk up the street to the entrance to the underground, and head down the stairs. Situated at the top of the stairs was a newspaper vendor. Everyday, as I walked towards him before making the U-turn to go down the stairs, he would smile and nod hello or say hi or otherwise greet me.

Mind you, I never, ever bought a paper from him. I never spoke with him, except perhaps a polite hello or nod of the head. And yet, every day, he acknowledged me. So I figured it was just his way, or perhaps part of his marketing of his newspapers. So I paid attention. I watched. To no other passersby did he extend the same sort of greeting, sometimes not even to people who actually bought a paper from him.

Now, this being San Francisco, there is another possible explanation -- I myself often made eye contact with and smiled at an attractive young lady. Perhaps he was simply doing the same. It is certainly possible, but he was an older asian gentleman and I am certainly no Sean Connery or Denzel Washington. When you consider that this is but one example, that seems unlikely. I am a realist -- I may not be hideous, but I'm certainly not every one's idea of a hunk. And, since this is not limited to people I've met in the real world, it really can't be something physical.

So why do the sample people at Costco, the florist, the barrista, and so on all remember little old me? Me, who maybe comes into their lives once a week, at most, amidst throngs of -- literally -- thousands of others? What is it about me that is so darn noticeable?

I'll be the first to tell you that I am certainly not normal, whatever that might be. In a city like San Francisco, however, I'm certainly not that exceptional. I know a lot of people who have far more interesting and important friends and acquaintances and yet who still not only allow me into their lives but accept me wholeheartedly and even seem honored to be part of mine. I'm talking, even, people who really deserve that "I'm not worthy! I'm not worthy!" response ala Wayne's World. So why me?

My shrink once suggested that I ask someone. It would be too weird to ask someone I don't really know, like that newspaper vendor. I'd feel odd asking a friend too, not to mention, perhaps, terrified of what they might say. So, I'll ask you, gentle reader, if you do exist: What brings you here? Why do I, with my mundane, ordinary, daily life, interest you? What is it about me that makes me memorable?