2026 Essay Camp #3 - I remember Jay

 Today is the 5th day of the 13th week,  the 26th day of the 3rd month, the 85th day of 2026, and:

• Epilepsy Awareness Day - you are supposed to wear purple so you can start conversations and dispel common myths about the condition.  I was surprised to learn that dogs suffer from this too as my daughter's poodle has to take preventative medication 
• Independence Day - Bangladesh from Pakistan in 1971
• Legal Assistants Day
• Live Long and Prosper Day - celebrating Leonard Nimoy's birthday
• National Equal Pay Day
• National Make Up Your Own Holiday Day
• National Science Appreciation Day
• National Nougat Day
• National Spinach Day
• Prince Kūhiō Day - celebrates the birth of the prince and the passage of the Hawaiian Homelands Act  
• Purple Day - I'm wearing green so I blew that one
• Solitude Day
• Spinach Festival Day
• and Voyager 1 is currently ~23h 32m 20s of light travel time from Earth

Quote of the day:

"The key to immortality is first living a life worth remembering."

~ Bruce Lee

On this day, 17 years ago, I leaned that one of Frank's friends died.  

His name was Jay - I don't remember his last name anymore.  Frank and I met him at Security Square Mall, where we were all working, back in 1985.  He was an unpreposing little man of artistic aspirations, who looked very much like a classic 1950's beatnik.  Although he would talk at great length to anyone who would listen [hence the description of "annoying little man" that was bestowed upon him], but he said very little about himself.  He lived in the rather decrepit garden apartments across the very busy four lane Rolling Road from the mall, and walked over to the mall every day whether or not he had a job.  

Frank, who was working security, always listened to him with patience, and Jay would hunt him up every day.  Realizing that money was tight for Jay, who was living on a minimum Social Security check plus what he could make working part-time in retail, Frank always bought him dinner and ate with him.  When an infestation of bed bugs made life miserable for Jay, Frank helped get rid of the old mattress and paid for a new one.  I later leaned after Frank died, that he had also been giving Jay money each month, and I continued doing that.  I did try and take him to lunch twice, but it was awkward in a way that I didn't expect - I didn't want to date the man.  

I don't know when he actually died - his niece called me out of the blue and asked me why I was depositing money into Jay's account each month.  I told her and she was very upset, telling me Jay had never told his family he was in financial straits.  And then she told me that Jay had been struck by a car crossing Rolling Road and had died in the hospital after a week or so.  She was in the process of trying to wind up the estate and when my monthly deposit came in  [my phone number was on the checks, that was a thing back then] and that is the only reason I found out what happened to Jay.

"You live as long as you are remembered", the saying goes, and Jay was so totally alone and overlooked.  It got me to thinking about the loved ones that I carry in my heart.  On my mother's side of the family, I was the only child and the only grandchild.   I never knew my grandfather Riley [he died before my parents were married], and now that my mother is gone, so are the memories of him.  Aunt Nell [my mother's sister] and Uncle Eddie were childless, and have been gone for decades now, I wonder if their coworkers, or their godchildren [who would be in my generation] ever remember them?  My kids never met Uncle Eddie, who died before they were born, and they have only a hazy recollection of the existence of  Aunt Nell, remembering primarily that she lived all her life with Grandmom Riley.  So when I am gone, who will remember them?  They will dwidndle to pictures in a photo album, the ones that you point to and say "who are those people" and no one will know the answer.  

The Litany of Humility has us praying "From the fear of being forgotten, deliver me Jesus" and that one hits home because I always wanted a Carol-sized hole to be left in the world when I am gone.  I wonder if Jay felt the same way, and so every year I take the time to state: I remember Jay