NUNBER
ONE
I
pride myself on being able to recall from memory my eight digit military
service number a half century after Uncle Sam assigned it to me upon my being
inducted into the army in September 1945. The reason it sticks in my noggin is
because of an incident that happened to me during that year’s Christmas season.
At the time, I found myself stationed at Scott Field, Illinois, awaiting
security clearance before being trained as a Cryptographic Technician. Almost
everyone on base had received a ten-day furlough. Not me. I had to stand guard
at the building used to train Cryptographic Technicians, the one I had not yet
been cleared to enter. What a way to run
the Army.
On
my first night of duty, an Officer came by and asked me to identify myself by
number. I stuttered, stumbled, drew a blank, and had to read it from my dog
tag. This Officer made me repeat it afterwards, from memory. I felt like the
dumbest cluck in the coop. I never forgot my number afterwards.
These
are not the only digits I carry around in my cranium. My memory bank includes
numerous family telephone numbers which permits me to call them without having
to use the phone’s speed dial feature.
I have memorized the numbers of the three
credit cards my wife and I carry, including one she uses extensively. Recently,
one of us, not me, lost the card and we had to apply for a new version. Thank
goodness, the first eight digits on the new card were the same as the old one.
The new eight digits that followed had a very simple pattern that I quickly
memorized. I am able to babble off these numbers whenever the need arises.
Think of how much time this saves me whenever friendly charity workers ask me
to give them my credit card number over the phone. There is no need for me to
pull out my wallet and search for the elusive card.
I
have always been able to recall my social security number, save for one notable
occasion. Angie had tripped and fallen in our living room. I took her to the
emergency room. My heart pounded as we rushed into the hospital. She looked
like an abused spouse. Naturally, before anyone could attend to her injuries,
we had to provide proof of our existence. I mumbled but could not provide our
social security numbers from memory to the admitting desk clerk. While fumbling
for my wallet, Angie, although dazed, rattled them off. That’s team work. She
falls down and I lose my memory.
My
ability to retain numbers came into play when I began writing my memoirs.
Without doing any research, I could recall the addresses of all the residences
in which I had lived. My parents moved in, out, and then back into one
apartment building, so that made it a bit simpler for me to recall.
My
knack of recalling numbers proved useful during my working career. I could
readily connect contract numbers to customer names which facilitated my
locating relevant files. The speed I displayed in accomplishing this task did
not result in a pay raise.
As
a practical matter, it is good to know one’s license plate number. I once owned
a car licensed FLY -300,
easy to remember. Angie decided to get a personalized plate a few years ago. It
read, CIAODWN. Chow down. Alphabetic characters may be easier to remember than
numeric ones.
I
can recall the birthdays of all our children, grandchildren, and now, God help
me, great grandchildren. Angie tops this, as she can rattle off the birthdays
of our extended family. She has a fabulous ability to keep them all in mind.
What is more, she is thoughtful enough to send each of them a birthday card.
What
a number she is, my favorite ONE .
▄
. .
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