Memory is a strange quality. I remember having worked at UNC in the graduate economics department. I no longer remember what I did (let alone where I sat, who else worked there, where we had lunch, what time I got off, what year it was...). What could I possibly have done, given that I knew nothing about economics? There is nothing in this letter*—presumably unsent? definitely unsent, as it's not folded, & I was never in the habit of keeping copies of my sent correspondence, unless an occasional first draft to a special someone—that rings the faintest bell. I would not have thought I had written the folks at Enroute. It's like seeing yourself in a photo, sitting on Harry Truman's lap, & you are 7 years old, old enough to remember, but you don't, not even something important. Not that this job was memorable, but I wish I had a single bit of it left in my head.
*Dear Dear Enrouties -- Read More
*Dear Dear Enrouties -- Read More