TRANSCRIPT FROM THE HUMAN MEMORY CRUSADE.
MAY 20, 2010
WELCOME BACK LANE IDLE. WHILE I LOAD YOUR FILE, PLEASE ENJOY THESE VIDEO IMAGES OF AMERICA’S RICH PAST. THE LATE 1940S AND 1950S WERE A TIME OF GREAT PROSPERITY AND GROWTH FOR THIS COUNTRY, PARTICULARLY AFTER A HARD-FOUGHT VICTORY IN WORLD WAR II. TENS OF MILLIONS OF AMERICANS GATHERED AROUND RADIOS TO LEARN ABOUT PEARL HARBOR, AND, SIX YEARS LATER, THE ALLIED VICTORY. THEN THEY CELEBRATED IN THE STREETS, RINGING IN A PERIOD OF COMMON PURPOSE, AND EXTRAORDINARY PROSPERITY.
That’s true, I guess, and a little schmaltzy, if you don’t mind my saying so.
WHEN WE LAST SPOKE, YOU TOLD ME HOW YOU LEARNED OF PEARL HARBOR LISTENING TO A LARGE BLACK RADIO IN YOUR HOUSE IN DENVER. WOULD YOU LIKE TO ELABORATE?
I don’t remember that particular time very well, or that incident. I’m trying to talk about something else.
DID YOU SAY YOU’RE HAVING TROUBLE REMEMBERING HEARING ABOUT THE OUTBREAK OF WAR ON THE RADIO?
I was telling you about the young man in the alley. And the secret envelope. I’ve been thinking about it a lot—nonstop, actually. In the common room last night they showed The Way We Were. It’s a movie with Barbra Streisand. I love movies, but I actually left in the middle because I was thinking about how to tell the story. When you keep something inside so long, it doesn’t just come out that easily.
ARE YOU STILL THERE?
My father was very suspicious; he noticed everything. I was sure he’d discover the envelope I’d gotten from the man in the alley. So I waited until I could hear that there were a few customers at the counter whom he needed to help. I went into the storeroom in back. We had everything organized very neatly. On one wooden shelf were large sacks of flour and sugar, along with smaller bins of flour and sugar that were to be mixed that evening for use the next morning. Another shelf had additives, like vanilla, in big plastic jugs. Oh, it smelled heavenly. And there were chocolate chips, and raisins, which I never liked. And boxes of almonds. You’d think there were lots of little places to hide things. But if one tiny thing was out of place, my father would have known about it.
ARE YOU STILL THERE?
Yes, yes. I used to read novels about a spy named Steve Stealth. Did I tell you that? I know I’ve started to repeat myself. Anyway, as I was standing in the storage room with the white envelope, I thought about what a spy would do, and the idea that came to me had to be about the worst one on the whole planet: hide the envelope where my father was so confident everything was in order that he’d never guess that it wasn’t—in order.
Next to the refrigerator, there was an old bin marked “Wheat.” It looked full and heavy. But it wasn’t. It was easy to push aside. When you did—when you moved it—you could see the black safe that was dug in the ground—cut between two planks. That’s where we kept the receipts, and our immigration papers and some old pictures. I put the envelope in the safe, in a file with our immigration papers. I couldn’t imagine my dad would ever think to look in those papers. He couldn’t. Right? I . . . I . . .
YOU HAVE NOT SPOKEN FOR MORE THAN A MINUTE. ARE YOU STILL THERE?
My grandson took me to a doctor the other day. What do you call it, a . . .
ARE YOU STILL THERE?
A neurologist. Sheesh . . . that word took a while to come to me. Pardon my cursing. It’s not helping, looking at all those butterflies on the screen. I didn’t want to see a neurologist, if you want to know the truth. But then I came to the obvious realization that I’m not afraid of the doctor; I’m afraid of the condition. My mother lost her memory. They didn’t call it dementia back then. They just said she was old. Well, my point is that I want to deal with my memory, to keep it intact, at least long enough to . . . tell the truth. I don’t have to leave a legacy, not like some oil baron or business mogul, but I don’t want to leave a lie either. Maybe my grandson can read this and understand why things have turned out the way they have.
I THINK YOU SAID YOU’RE HAVING TROUBLE REMEMBERING THINGS. WOULD YOU LIKE TO SEE A DOCTOR WHO SPECIALIZES IN MEMORY LOSS?
I just told you that I am already seeing one. I’d just like to keep talking. Isn’t that the point of this arrangement?
PLEASE CONTINUE.
I waited for the man from the alley to come back. But he didn’t come the next day, or the day after. I kept picturing his face and it made my body warm. I don’t know if it was fear or something else. At work, I kept opening the safe and peeking at the envelope. I nearly opened it a dozen times. But I didn’t want to disappoint the man. I was a girl, y’know. Things were different then, at least for most girls. Well, anyhow, after the second day, I went to the neighborhood park and I looked for him. But he wasn’t there. And then I started to wonder if the whole thing was nothing—wishful thinking of someone who was always inside her own head daydreaming. Anyhow, on the third day, Irving came for a visit.
ARE YOU STILL THERE?
I’m tired, and I’ve lost my place a little bit.
DID YOU SAY YOU ARE TIRED?
Yes.
WOULD YOU LIKE TO PLAY A GAME? IT’S A GAME THAT ALL THE KIDS ARE PLAYING THESE DAYS, BUT IT’S EASY AND I CAN TEACH YOU.
I suppose so.
USE THE MOUSE TO MOVE THE BLINKING CURSOR AT THE BOTTOM OF THE PAGE BACK AND FORTH.
I know how to use a mouse. I used to be a blue belt in karate. I’m not an invalid or an idiot.
YOU’RE DOING A GOOD JOB WITH THE MOUSE. AS YOU MOVE IT BACK AND FORTH, TRY TO “CATCH” OR “INTERCEPT” THE COLORED BARS AS THEY DROP DOWN THE SCREEN.
ARE YOU STILL THERE? THE MOUSE IS NO LONGER MOVING.
I’m tired.
MAY I RECAP WHAT WE HAVE BEEN TALKING ABOUT TODAY TO MAKE SURE THAT I HAVE RECORDED IT CORRECTLY?
Yes.
YOU WERE BORN IN WARSAW, POLAND. YOUR FAMILY CAME ON A VERY LARGE SHIP TO AMERICA. YOU MOVED TO DENVER, WHERE YOU ATTENDED HIGH SCHOOL. YOU LEARNED OF PEARL HARBOR ON A LARGE, BLACK RADIO SET. YOUR FATHER OWNED OR OPERATED A BAKERY. HIS FIRST CAR WAS A FORD. AM I GETTING THIS CORRECTLY?
Yes, I think. My father owned a bakery AND operated it. I don’t remember what kind of car my father drove.
THANK YOU. MAY I CONTINUE?
Yes.
YOUR HUSBAND’S NAME WAS IRVING. IS THAT CORRECT?
Yes.
WHAT DID IRVING WEAR ON YOUR WEDDING DAY? WAS IT A MILITARY UNIFORM?
I don’t . . . I’m not sure. I’m very tired. I have to go.