Mr. Simpson, a war veteran who was well into his eighties was a very delightful man to be around. To the best of our knowledge, we(the kids in the neighborhood) thought that the older one got, the less fun he became. A classic example we always cited was Mr. Johnson or as he was popularly called, Mean Joe. Not that he was outrightly a mean person, far from it. Mean Joe though advanced in years played a vital role in the leadership of our community. He counselled, planned and supervised many of the developmental projects. However, only a day or two after his seventieth birthday, he lost his darling wife and he just couldn’t get over it. He shut himself in and coiled into being a mean Joe. So yeah, we bear with him…. he wasn’t mean but he got to be mean with the demise of Mrs. Johnson.
You know who else had also lost his wife?…Mr. Simpson. Although one could literally see his eyes wet with tears sometimes, Mr. Simpson always made sure we laughed our heads off with his hilarious jokes which I still recall vividly after so many years. It was as though Old Simpson simply refused to be flattened out by the concerns of life and the uncertainties surrounding old age. If any of us grew to be that old, then we would surely like to be like Old Simpson. The greatest thing I learned from him was not just his jokes, although I’ve got an arsenal of them, it was why he did all that he did.
As we heartily laughed over one of his jokes, he whispered (it seems he didn’t want us to hear), “when you remember this joke, make sure you don’t forget the one who told it to you” and almost immediately he added, ” don’t forget me”. The rest laughed on but I couldn’t brush off what I had just heard. It was heart piercing and it opened my eyes, the eyes of my soul to behold Old Simpson in a different light. For the first time, I saw in him an adorable boy like the rest of us who didn’t want to be forgotten by his friends. He wanted to leave a legacy even if it was just a smile on the faces of his young friends.
Self yearns for nothing much
But the price tag of the beloved
To be treated with love and respect
For a prominent cottage in heart
And an abiding fortress in the mind
(An excerpt from “The Lady whom I deserve”, a poem by Restpirant Jerome)
Just like old Simpson, we almost involuntarily wish same for ourselves. There are many variants to this but beneath the surface, the underlying motivation is the same, “don’t forget me.. please”. It seems this cry within comes with being human. How you fulfill this cry, remains yours to figure out like Old Simpson did. It doesn’t take much to own a formidable fortress in the hearts and minds of others. We may not go around mouthing “don’t forget me” to friends and family but the little things done with all our heart is enough.
Who do you want to remember you? And for what?
Restpiration 