Happy Birthday Pamela Kleinmeyer

I've been thinking a lot lately about memories and about how hearing a song, or observing a gesture, or looking at an object, or noticing the date on the calendar can call to mind someone I've not seen for years and years--someone who has disappeared from my radar screen or, sadly, someone who has died. When someone dies, it is a natural and caring thing to say, "I will remember her forever" or "I will never forget him." And I do mean it. But time passes and things happen and life gets complicated. And I forget. Then one day, I hear the song "You Make Me Feel So Young," and I think of Marge Kerns. My very first job was with the Board of Education in Oakland. Marge was one of the women in the office. On Friday afternoons, close to the end of the work day, we would get a little silly and I would sing "You Make Me Feel So Young." But I would sing it in a shaky, 99 year old voice. And Marge would laugh and laugh. It's been over 40 years since I worked with Marge, but whenever I hear that song--which isn't as often as you might suspect!--I think of Marge. I can see her face exactly as it was all those years ago. If I sneeze more than three times in a row, I think of Ann Clementi, a classmate from Oakland Tech. Ann once said it was impossible for anyone to sneeze more than three times in a row. I wonder if she remembers that? When I see an owl, I think of my Cousin Dorothy. It was not until after she died that I learned she collected owls, and now when I see a little decorative owl I think of her and wish she was here so I could buy it and give it to her. Those miniature cartons of Easter eggs remind me of my Uncle Bob. I was about 5 years old when I first met him. He appeared at our house very early one morning and had a little carton of those eggs for me. At least that is what I recall. And if that was not the case, I don't care because it is something that reminds me of him. Corn on the cob always reminds me of our family friend, George Fiorentino. George ate corn in such a way that the cob was completely smooth when he was through. That did and does amaze me. George passed away, but I am sure that the last time I talked to him I mentioned the corn on the cob. The song "Sherry" always reminds me of classmate Lani Temer. Along with thousands of other teenagers, I loved that song. One day it happened to be playing somewhere in school, and Lani said, "Oh, it's my song." I remember thinking, "It's my song." And so I think of her every time I hear "Sherry." The red, white, and blue afghan my Auntie Millie made for me for the Bicentennial reminds me of, who else, my Auntie Millie. Looking at the ceiling in the Pirates of the Caribbean ride at Disneyland reminds me of my Auntie Grace. I don't know how it happened, but we were in the ride and thought it was nighttime, even though we knew it was day. The magic confused us. It's a strange little story to relate, but nevertheless, whenever I ride the Pirates, I look at the darkened pirate sky and think of Auntie Grace. I dreamed up an ornament exchange at work many years ago. The first year I received a little Hallmark ornament of a girl on a swing. I'm reminded of Leslie Cicero every year when I unwrap that ornament. I have other wood ornaments hand made by my friend Jan Main's Father. I never met him, but when I unwrap those ornaments (a padre ringing a bell and, oddly enough, another little girl on a swing), I think of him. I don't think of my friend, Jan, I think of a man I never met. Dean Martin singing "On an Evening in Roma" will always remind me of my first trip to Italy because my friend Madelyn, with whom I was traveling to Italy, had it blaring out of her house when I arrived the night before our departure. But it will also always remind me of my Auntie Rosie. She watched the Dean Martin Show faithfully, and whenever he sang "On an Evening in Roma" she called to tell me. In my office there is a blue vase with a dried rose in it. It was my first gift from a student for a favor I did for him. That was over 40 years ago. His name was Paul Tichinin. He had red hair. The vase is somewhat hidden, but when I look at the vase I think of him. I could go on and on. The song "My Guy"--Charlene Gianni, my best friend from high school. The song "59th Street Bridge Song" (aka "Feeling Groovy")--my friend Barbara Smith, who graduated from Cal State in 1969. Things too numerous to count remind me of my Father, my Mother, my Sister, all my Aunts, Uncles and Cousins. What does it all mean--this remembrance of people long after they are out of our lives? It is a good thing to be sure. Does it mean they live forever? I don't know. But I plan to ask each of them when I see them again. Oh--I almost forgot. Dates. May 20--Lorraine Patterson's birthday--my best friend from grades 1-3. June 20--Charlene Gianni's birthday--my best friend from high school. March 28--Pamela Kleinmeyer's birthday--my friend from grades 4-5. I've not seen or talked to Pamela in over 45 years, but every March 28 I think of her. Happy Birthday, Pamela!