Saturday, February 2, 2008

Something Forgotten and Remembered

Once, when I was thirteen or fourteen, I was sitting at a picnic table in downtown Salt Lake City. It was July I think, the sun was beating down furiously, and I was very grateful for the shade the table's canopy provided.

I was downtown to help out with the sound equipment at an outdoor concert being held that Thursday. One of my Mom's old friends ran a company that did the sound for concerts, and so I figured I'd get a little experience in the music business and help him out with a few shows. I was waiting for the crew to arrive when a man came and sat down at the table with me.

He was in his sixties, with white, wispy, thinning hair. He was wearing those old 90's style wrap-around sunglasses, a white t-shirt, and some running shorts. In his right hand he held a cigar. We talked. I was a pretty shy, introverted little kid, so he did most of the talking.

He said he did something in medicine, he worked in the radiology department at the University of Utah Medical Center I think. He went over details of the business, recent equipment acquisitions and their prices, the people he worked with. Maybe he told me a few interesting stories about powerful magnets in X-Ray machines snatching watches off of the wrists of hapless passer-bys, or maybe I'm mixing that up with a different memory. I do remember, very distinctly, that he had a lot of advice. I listened raptly to what he said, making sure to note everything carefully. When the equipment truck arrived and I excused myself to unload it I remember thinking he was very wise.

The experience left me with one of those pleasant, soothing sensations in my chest. Part satisfaction, part enlightenment.

When I told Mom of my good fortune later that night, she said he was probably lying to me about working at the hospital. Per my description, he sounded like a transient to her. At the time I was deeply offended that she'd written off this experience of mine, although reflecting back on the memory, she was probably right.

I wonder if I followed his advice in the end.

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