Thursday, March 24, 2016
As it happened, I was aware that today was Thursday, but since I have forgotten in the past what day of the week it is, I was constrained to say, "thank you." Double-checking is a good idea. The reasons for knowing what day of the week it is lose their savor as age laps ever more insistently against the pier that is "me."
Where have I gone? What reason do I have to come back? These are just questions, not complaints or plaints. There was a time when knowing the day of the week was easy-peasy. It had relevance and social impact. It was a credit card I would not leave home without. But it is harder to remember why exactly that factoid is/was important or useful.
Where have I gone? It's a simple question -- one I feel I ought to be able to answer and yet can't. Although my incapacity is vaguely anti-social, still it is not as frightening or infused with failure as it once might have been.
OK, it's Thursday. And your point is? What do you know when you know it? On the other hand, when you don't know, life seems slightly less manufactured: "Thursday" is OK as a tentative matter, but the tentativeness is more impressive than the social OK-ness is or was. Time is not two things. Doesn't there come a time when un-learning becomes important?
I can remember a time when I could not imagine not knowing what day of the week it was. No big deal: I can remember a time, as well, when I really, really, really wanted to be a cowboy. If you know today is Thursday, what do you know? If you don't know today is Thursday, what don't you know?
I do still wonder ... where have I gone? I was there, and I can remember that, but now I am here and I haven't a clue where that is. The certainty of "Thursday" is missing; but what certainty has replaced it? I can chat this topic to death, but that's just chat.
Maybe it's like the old military approach to homosexuality: Don't ask, don't tell.