Why Not?

I don’t recall, he said. Funny. Used to remember such things; birthdays, always sent out Christmas cards, knew addresses off the top of my head, he told the doctor. Now, I don’t know.

Can you tell me who the president is?

The current one?

Yes.

He hesitated. Looked at the tile floor. The doctor sat patiently, waiting for an answer. There were pictures on the office wall. A wife, kids, diploma from Indiana University, a medical license. The old man looked up at the pictures and accomplishments. He nodded his head and laughed.

I can’t.

What?

Couldn’t tell you who the president is. Besides, I stopped voting a long time ago.

Who was the last person you voted for?

The old man looked back at the tile. He felt the pictures on the wall looking at him. He felt embarrassed, naked of knowledge.

I couldn’t tell you that either, he said. I just don’t know.

Do you remember your wife?

I was married?

Yes. You have five children. One of them drove you here.

Who did?

Your son. One of your sons. I believe his name is Michael.

That so?

Yes.

Did I tell you about the time I flew to Mars?

No.

It was amazing. Truly something.

Sure. I’ll bet.

Now that’s the sort of thing a fellow remembers, he smiled.

Yes. Yes, he would. What was Mars like?

Hot and dusty during daylight. Cold at night. Like the desert. Just red clay everywhere. I was sent there on a special mission. Very hush hush. Now that I’m dying, I don’t care anymore. I’m telling everybody. Funny thing. No one believes me. Do you believe me?