We're Only Several Miles from the Sun

When I worked in the store at the lake, there was a man who would come in every day to buy yogurt and a piece of fruit. Every morning, without fail. This man is none other than the original Elvis. He claims he was named Elvis before Elvis was even a musician, therefore he is the original. This man is older. He has tanned, wrinkly skin that looks like it's been turned into leather. He always wears a fleece vest with nothing underneath it and a pair of cargo shorts. I mean always, he could be a cartoon character. He sometimes drives his pickup to the lodge, which at all times has his bike and kayak attached to it. If he doesn't drive, he rides his bike there. He has grey hair that become wavy as it gets longer. He has a kind face but sometimes has crazy eyes.

He likes to talk to people, constantly asking them questions about their lives. All the girls in the store enjoyed talking to him. He was just a regular in our day and it was nice to have a customer who was kind and actually kind of cared about your life outside of being the person selling them overpriced souvenirs and necessities.

Elvis thought that I was a genius. He was impressed with my interest in math. He wanted me to marry his grandson who was studying engineering at Michigan State. I've always thought Elvis to be a strange sort of genius, you know like the ones that helped build the atomic bomb and then were never quite the same again. If anything, he is a character. 

But more than Elvis's strange habits, wardrobe, and ideas on life. I have always admired his ability to connect with people. Last week, I saw Elvis. It was the first time since that summer. He remembered my name, my major, where I go to school. It was incredible. Some people would think it creepy, but there's more to it than that.

In today's world, it's so common to find pride in being forgetful and shame in being able to remember things and people and those little things. You're more likely to hear someone confess to forgetting names easily than to hear someone admit that they can remember everything in a conversation they had with one person one time. Sometimes people who do remember feel the need to pretend like they don't so they don't seem creepy. But maybe we need to change that because when someone remembers, it makes you feel happy. It makes you feel loved. I guess that's the moral of this whole story. We should put more emphasis on kindness, on listening to others and really letting it sink in. Because the more we remember --the more we can truly touch a person's life.