The Persistence of Memory (and I'm NOT Talking About a Painting of Limp Clocks)

Somebody around here has a memory problem.

You might know the somebody I'm talking about. The somebody who once lost half a donut under his chair while in the hospital waiting for The Pony to come out of broken-elbow surgery. The somebody who left a banana peel stuffed in the cushions of his La-Z-Boy. The somebody who thought nothing of placing a paper plate holding the stub-end of a Subway Cold Cut Trio on the fake fireplace mantle and abandoning it for two days.

Every morning, Hick has a sausage/egg/cheese muffin and a banana. He usually grabs these at 6:00 a.m. on his way out the door to drive to work. Last week he was on vacation. I suppose that threw him off a bit. Not the getting up and leaving at 6:00 a.m. part. Believe me and my bleary eyes, he still did that. But he must have varied from his breakfast of champions routine.

The bananas are on the kitchen counter by the kitchen door. The better for Hick to grab one on his way out. I have to take them apart from the bunch, and lay them flat. Not to do a favor for Hick. But because they go bad faster if they're on the bunch. Some buttinskies helpful acquaintances have pointed out that there are stands from which to hang your bananas that keep them from ripening so quickly. Hmpf. We have gone through two of these stands. Trouble was, Hick did not grasp the bunch and pull a single banana loose. He grabbed one banana and yanked it until it came off. Which resulted in the destruction of two banana holders.

Anyhoo...because the quality of store-bought bananas ain't what it used to be, the bananas sometimes get too ripe before Hick eats them up. I usually pawn them off on my mom, who loves ripe bananas more than she loves those tiny little banty eggs Hick saves for her. When I can't get rid of them soon enough, I have to move the ripe bananas away from the new bananas so they don't contagiously spread their overripeness. That is done by moving the riper bananas way down the counter, over the stove, almost to the fruit bowl of Granny Smiths. At no time do I move bananas to the cutting block in the center of the kitchen.

Yet Sunday morning, I found a single banana on the cutting block. A whole banana. Not a peel. It was one of the good bananas. Two bad bananas were still cooling their peels at the end of the kitchen counter. "Did you forget to eat your banana this morning? I found one on the cutting block."

Hick: "No! I ate my banana! I threw the peel to the chickens."

Val: "I was just wondering. Because somehow a banana got from the kitchen sink area way over to the cutting block."

Hick: "Maybe The Pony put it there."

Pony: "I didn't take a banana."

Hick: "Maybe you put it there."

Val: "No. I didn't move a banana."

Hick: "Well, I know I didn't. I ate my banana."

The discussion continued on our way in T-Hoe to get a frozen custard.

Hick: "You think you remember things, but you don't. Like when you said we had a Jeep Cherokee."

Val: "I think we did. It was dark green, and something was wrong with the window, and you took off the door panel, so when I had to drive it, there was a bunch of exposed metal, and I could see how all the parts were hooked in."

Hick: "That dark green car was a Ford Explorer. And you never drove it. And I did not take the door panel off."

Val: "I may not know the make and model of cars, but I most certainly drove that green one, and there was bare metal on the door. Because you had trouble with the window motor."

Hick: "I think you're making that up."

Val: "How would I know what a door looks like without its cover? Or that a window has a motor?"

Hick: "You never drive any of the other vehicles. Except that truck we got from your dad. That blue Silverado that you and Genius took to school."

Val: "All three of us took it to school because the battery was dead in my Suburban. AND we were embarrassed because it had that swimming pool in the back that you picked up that a guy was getting rid of, and the filter and hoses were up front, and Genius was riding on my hip and I could hardly steer, and The Pony insisted on wearing that blue-striped engineer cap from Silver Dollar City, and tooting on a wooden train whistle the whole way, with various hoses wrapped around his neck."

Hick: "That's the only one you drove."

Val: "I drove the Ford 250 that you have now."

Hick: "The brown one? No you didn't."

Val: "Yes I did. I used to tell you all the time that it scared me, because the brakes never seemed like they were going to stop the truck. I even had nightmares about it."

Hick: "You must have dreamed of driving it. The brakes only went out on it one time, when I was at My Number One Son's house. His father-in-law got onto me for driving it home, because the brakes didn't work. I had to use the emergency brake."

Val: "The brakes went out on it when Genius drove it."

Hick: "Maybe the other brakes went out on it, then."

Val: "No. You sent Genius to get a load of rock, and on the way back, he had no brakes, so he stopped on the bowling alley parking lot and called me, and I went to pick him up. Then when you got home, we took you to get the truck and drive it home."

Hick: "Oh, yeah. THAT's the time I drove it with no brakes."

Pony: "Um. Dad. You're really not in a position to argue about memory."

Hick: "I don't know. Maybe I picked up two bananas this morning."

He is training me for a second career in the court system, cross-examining forgetful witnesses and perpetrators. I'm sure that's it. Not that he's trying to drive me crazy.