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I Have A Good Memory, But It's Short

by Terry Veldhouse

We just had Memorial Day and its important to recall what our service men have done for us. The National Concert in Washington was a good reminder of that, if you happened to catch it on Sunday night. My story today is about a couple of guys that came back from WWII and started making memories here.

Memory is a crazy thing. It comes and goes and there isnt much logic to its occasional disappearance. I know a geezer who says he has a good memory, but its short. He uses this line when it is obvious that he doesnt know who he is talking to, especially if its someone he should know. Everybody needs a good line in a tight situation, so if you cant fake it, these words are not copy written. The catch is that you have to remember them before you can use them.

Here at WC we have had a number of WWII vets. Elmer liked to use the wood shop for projects and Herb liked to visit there. Herb had spent many years as a high school shop teacher, but his failing eyesight prevented him from using the tools. He and Elmer hooked up with a woodworking club that used the shop occasionally and met on Tuesday nights to share ideas and fellowship.

On this particular Tuesday, the club was meeting at HyVee on East 10 th Street, about two miles from WC. A good time was had by all, but when the group broke up it was dark. When our two geezers got outside neither one could remember exactly where they parked, so a search ensued. Herb wasnt much help, but eventually Elmer found the car and inserted the key. This triggered a car alarm and before long a couple of black and whites were adding their sirens to the din. It was a bit disorientating for a couple of guys who were already lost, but eventually the real car was discovered a few vehicles over and the problem was sorted out.

Our two heroes arrived back at WC ten minutes later, still in mild hysterics about losing the car and highly relieved to be back. Im sure they were in no danger of incarceration, but its not often that a couple of octogenarians get a chance to stir up the local constabulary. It turns out to be just another funny memory about memory. We have plenty of them around WC I think.

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