Wednesday, November 9, 2011

NUMBER ONE

"ONE" is the title of a great song from Broadway. It inspired me to write this vignette which has absolutely nothing to do with music. In it, I brag about my ability to remember important numbers. 12/22/2016


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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