Incognito

For some reason, and I truly do not understand why, I seem to be a memorable character. It's something I've dealt with my entire life.

Now a lot of people would see this as a blessing and not a curse. But I'm a shy, modest guy, and it's always made me feel a bit uneasy being so well-recognized.

Plus I hate to be rude. With people coming up to me on a regular basis with, "Hey Jim! How are 'ya?" I feel rude when I don't remember their names. And it happens too often.

I explained this to my Uncle Rhea once and he said, "You know what your problem is? You're lazy. You have to work harder to remember people."

I always figured he was probably right.

But no matter how hard I try, people still come up to me and appear to know me almost better than I know myself.

Part of it, I'm sure, is the strong legacy my parents have made in Myerstown.

When I first started driving I had the yellow Chevy Impala station wagon out. I gave it a little extra gas from a stop sign and a rear spinning wheel caused a hub cap to fly off and roll up into a neighboring yard. I quickly pulled the car over and slinked up the yard to retrieve the hub cap.

To my horror, an older gentleman was relaxing on his porch, in a rocking chair. I quickly apologized to him, and thoroughly embarassed, I picked up my hub cap and turned to return to the car.

Suddenly I heard, "Does your Dad know you drive like that?"

(GULP!)

It always felt that I couldn't hiccup in Myerstown without everyone somehow knowing about it.

Yesterday we returned from the hardware store with our new kitchen faucet, ready to dig into the work of installing it. It was a beautiful day and almost everyone in the neighborhood was outdoors. I really didn't notice. I was on a kitchen faucet mission.

Barb alerted me to our neighbor trying to get my attention. I've been a bit invisible in Marietta this past year. And I certainly have not spread the word locally about my cancer. But somehow everyone seems to know. They know at the deli, at the bank, at the borough office, and throughout town. It bewilders me.

But I was glad to talk to Bob. He owns the pub behind our house. It's a very historic place, has survived some great floods through the past 100-years, and is the oldest pub in Lancaster County, operated by the same family since the 1930s. It's the only pub I've ever heard of that is not open on Saturdays. It's a very family-oriented, neighborhood kind of place.

Bob said to me, "You know this cancer stuff is out of control. Everytime I'm sore somewhere I think to myself, well that maybe it's cancer. I can only imagine what goes through your mind all the time."

I explained to him my philosophy. There are kids born with cancer. There are kids getting killed in Iraq. You can leave in the car one day and never come back. There are no guarantees. Just get out and live life.

He said, well that's a very positive approach. But I didn't seem to really convince him.

Then he told me he was making a donation to a Relay for Life event in my name.

I probably haven't talked to Bob in 9-months - how touching.

I noticed that a small line of people had ensembled to talk to me as well.

Huh? How am I such a memorable character?

Is it because I'm a giant goofball?

We ended by giving our other neighbor, recently the borough president, a quick tour of our renovation work in the backyard. He admired the new stone paver patio, trying not to draw attention to the big maduro cigar in his hand.

Boy, do I miss a good cigar on a special occasion - like a Hoya de Monterrey Excalibur Maduro. (shaking head)

Maybe I should learn to accept this being memorable thing. But it's just not in my nature.

Some people dream of being famous, being a celebrity. I just want to be one of the gang, because that's all I am, or all I'll ever be.

Notes:
- This morning we meet with our local oncologist to review our meeting in Philly with the kidney cancer specialist. I'll post an update on that meeting tomorrow.
- A fellow kidney cancer patient, and writer, from Augusta, Georgia lost his fight to this disease this week. He inspired many with his daily blog and will greatly be missed by many.