…that means I don’t remember you. Or, more than likely, I remember your face but not your name. If you see me in public and you haven’t seen me in more than a year, I just might forget you. Please don’t take it personally. I’m 46 years old now. I’m a teacher with 18 years in education, and I’ve taught thousands of students and conversed with hundreds of parents. I’m active in my church and in my community; I probably meet someone new everyday. My little brain just has to dump all of that information sometimes. No disrespect, but somehow your name file got deleted with some of the others. I mean no harm!
This is really important to me because I really don’t want anyone to feel like I’m being a snob or, as they say in my neighborhood, “acting brand new!” I’m not. I just can’t recall your name. As I’m talking to you, I’m desperately trying to think of who you are, but it’s difficult because at the same time, I’m trying to stay engaged in this conversation with you. This always makes the conversation difficult…tense…stunted. I know it, and you can probably sense my struggle. Then, I see it in your face; you give me that, “This bitch tryin’ to be funny,” look. But I’m not! I’m just old!
It seems that even with my graying temples some of y’all forget that I’m not 10-year-old “Boo” from the Southside anymore. I’m full-grown Tracy J. Cass from Fort Worth, TX, graduate of UTA, DBU, and UNT! I’m an educator of many students and teachers. I’m a proud auntie of two nieces and two nephews, with a great-niece, a bad hip, and a horrible memory! With all of that on my plate, I forget things, including keys, and people…OFTEN. So I’m saying now, “I’m sorry!” If you see me at the local Walmart, and I’m struggling to remember your name or who you are, be kind and let me make it. Just say, “Hey, GURL,” keep it pushing, and let me move on. That’s just too much pressure. And low-key, I’m embarrassed that I forgot you. Let me be great. 🤦🏽♀️