Multiple Meanings of Recall

The world as we know it today—a fragile, dangerous place that could erupt into an explosive, apocalyptic inferno at any moment—is very different from the world that could have been if humanity had prevailed over hatred. But we will never know what would have been; we can only look back in regret, unable to change history and unwilling, thus far, to force change in direction for the future.

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I read this morning about a 400,000-year old site in eastern Britain where archaeologists have found the earliest evidence to date that modern humans’ early neanderthal ancestors made fire. I still cannot make fire without a propane lighter or matches, though I have a vague recollection of being taught to (or trying to) make fire while participating in what I think was called the YMCA Indian Guides program. I couldn’t have been older than 6 or 7 years old. Today, I imagine that program is long dead, due to its misappropriation of elements of indigenous culture. From the tiny fragments of memory in my head, though, I think the program was truly reverential to the culture. We live and learn, though. Except I doubt I have retained enough of what I learned to enable me to make flames.

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With few exceptions, I visit my oncologist’s office once every week. The staff there have become almost more familiar than were the people at church, where I used to visit at least once every week. Unlike my experience with church, though, none of the cancer center staff have become friends, nor did I expect anything more than a cordial, professional relationship. Despite the reasons for visits to the cancer center, though, I find myself looking forward to those weekly appointments. Though I am not a “people person,” I sometimes enjoy engaging with the wider world. The imposition of restrictions demanded by cancer treatments has shrunken the size of my wider world. Sometimes, I miss participating in that larger wider world. Yesterday, I received holiday greetings from a couple of friends in Dallas, which reminded me that I have not initiated any of our rare conversations in far too long. My desire for more frequent interaction with people—especially with people who matter to me—is at odds with my tendency to wait for someone else to kindle such interactions.

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Speaking of my oncologist…I just got a call, asking me to return to her office today (and again tomorrow) for an injection to address a lower-than-desired white cell count. Sigh…