Now, where was I?

SHERWOOD KIRALY

The Friends of the Library Book Shop, just downstairs from the

library on Glenneyre Street, is usually open from 11 to 3 p.m., but on Wednesdays it’s also open from 3 to 6 p.m. I’m a part-time

volunteer; I work the 3 to 6 shift on the third Wednesday every

month.

Well, not every month. This month I forgot.

I had a few extra obligations that week; on Wednesday at 4:45 a.m.

I accompanied Patti Jo to the airport, where she took off for a week

in Cape May, N.J. I had some deadline work, and a few Mr. Mom duties

I don’t usually have, but the truth is I didn’t even come close to

remembering the bookshop. I had forgotten to mark my May calendar.

Wednesday went by, and Thursday. Friday morning it came to me -- I

don’t even remember how I remembered. I thought of books or shops or

friends or Wednesdays, and then I thought, “Hey.”

Unsettling. It might just be my own irresponsibility. Or it might

be another of the first drops of rain in the downpour that’s coming

to wash my brain away.

Freud said somewhere -- I don’t, of course, recall where -- that

when you forget something it’s because you want to. Alois Alzheimer,

around the same time, in 1906, was finding evidence to the contrary,

but when your memory begins to betray you, you prefer Freud’s

version. You’d rather see yourself as subconsciously afraid of

volunteer work than pre-senile.

When I was young I was a quick study. Even now, if you tell me

something useless about baseball or movies I’ll probably retain it.

But my brain can now only hold a maximum of three upcoming events at

a time; when you tell me a fourth one, either the first one falls out

or the fourth one bounces off like a handball off a blank wall.

Clearly I’ve reached the point where I have to take notes ... and

I have to remember to take notes. I don’t want to end up like that

guy in “Memento” who had to tattoo his phone number on himself.

Last Friday I went to the bookshop and left a check to cover the

amount my customers would have paid on a mediocre afternoon. I’m

hoping the Friends will forgive me; I probably won’t get fired. You

have to sink pretty low to get fired from volunteer work. The

donation might help ...

But it’s not a good precedent. I can’t go around for the next 30

years paying people to forgive me; I haven’t got that kind of money.

Anyway, there are great bargains down there at the bookshop. I’ve

mentioned it before but it may have slipped your mind. Drop down the

third Wednesday in June. I think I’ll be there. I wrote it down.