I Can't Make this Stuff Up, Volume II
The following happened in the winter of 2001. This is exactly how it took place.
It was February and, what’s more, my desk calendar told me that it was Abraham Lincoln’s birthday, so I hung my head out of the cage I work in and said to Chris, who had just climbed down from his forklift, “Happy Abraham Lincoln’s birthday.” Now there’s no traditional response to a greeting like that, so I wasn’t expecting anything in particular from Chris, but when he just looked at me with a stare blanker than I knew possible, I wondered where he was. That he had heard me was certain, and while I wasn’t expecting him to offer a celebratory hug, neither was I prepared for the vacancy of his eyes and the openness of his mouth. I think he even cocked his head to one side a little like The Boomer does sometimes. He was confused. I tried to help.
“You know, the President.”
He said, “Oh yeah. He was the first one, right?”
“No, I think he was sixteenth. You know—Civil War guy, big funny hat and beard, shot in the head…Abraham Lincoln.”
To which he replied, “Hmm. So who was the first one?”
At this point I’m certain I was the one who looked lost, but I managed to tell him, slowly, “No, that was George Washington.”
And he looked at me, and he squinted with thought, and he said, “Don’t hear much about him these days, do you?”
It was February and, what’s more, my desk calendar told me that it was Abraham Lincoln’s birthday, so I hung my head out of the cage I work in and said to Chris, who had just climbed down from his forklift, “Happy Abraham Lincoln’s birthday.” Now there’s no traditional response to a greeting like that, so I wasn’t expecting anything in particular from Chris, but when he just looked at me with a stare blanker than I knew possible, I wondered where he was. That he had heard me was certain, and while I wasn’t expecting him to offer a celebratory hug, neither was I prepared for the vacancy of his eyes and the openness of his mouth. I think he even cocked his head to one side a little like The Boomer does sometimes. He was confused. I tried to help.
“You know, the President.”
He said, “Oh yeah. He was the first one, right?”
“No, I think he was sixteenth. You know—Civil War guy, big funny hat and beard, shot in the head…Abraham Lincoln.”
To which he replied, “Hmm. So who was the first one?”
At this point I’m certain I was the one who looked lost, but I managed to tell him, slowly, “No, that was George Washington.”
And he looked at me, and he squinted with thought, and he said, “Don’t hear much about him these days, do you?”
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