LEONARD GRAY / L’Observateur / July 14, 1999

Isn’t it amazing how numbers rule every aspect of our lives and the capacity of the human brain for remembering those numbers? There’s a number of numbers I use almost every day. There’s my homephone number, when I’m calling to say, yes, I’ll be late again tonight.

There’s my cell phone number which I’ve already found to be totally necessary in my work. There’s the office phone number and any number ofnumbers for various government and police agencies, all inscribed into my memory.

But there’s more numbers. My checking account number, for example, andmy access code for the ATM machine at the bank, the security code for the office building. the burglar alarm code at home, the long-distance accesscode at the phone at work and the office fax number.

Other numbers tucked away in my mind are my wife’s work number, my Social Security number, my driver’s license number and the phone number of where I used to live when I was 6 years old.

I’ve also memorized my dad’s identification number from his Army service days during World War II, mostly because I’m trying to get replacements for his lost and/or never-received medals and decorations.

For some reason, I’ve never succeeded in memorizing my license plate number. Curious.Then there’s the computer and all sorts of passwords and access codes to get into various Internet websites, all committed to memory.

Some friends and relatives’ phone numbers are memorized, but I’d be lost without my little flippy address file on my desk or my index cards in my wallet containing the phone numbers of other people of importance in my life.

I’m a person who lives by the business card. I’ve also saved every businesscard I’ve ever received in the course of 28 years. When I retire, I’llorganize them.

Meanwhile, I keep a stack of them in my desk, along with two business card cases of my most commonly used cards.

Sticky notes are threatening to take over not only my desk, but also my wallet and my home. I have more numbers on these sticky notes of variouscommunity contacts and information of use and interest. I stuff them intomy shirt pocket, into my wallet and all over my desk and pinned to my bulletin board.

Numbers, however, are the thing. Nothing exists without a pack of numbersattached to it. We all have numbers pinned on us at birth, as parents aretold to get Social Security accounts started for their children in infancy.

People like me waited until their teen-age years or later.

I don’t remember my draft card number but I do remember my classification number, which helped keep me out of Vietnam. I still havethat card, too. (No draft-card burner here!)Still other numbers occupy my attention, including sizes. My waist sizewent up, prompting me to increase my workouts at the health club. No, Idon’t yet have my membership number there memorized. I can, however,recall my shoe size, blood type, ring size and hat size. I hardly ever wearhats.

For most of my childhood, I lived at a particular address in Luling. Imemorized the house number. With 9-1-1 municipal re-numbering, it’sbeen changed. I don’t know the new number.. If, in an emergency, I had todirect someone to that house, I couldn’t since I don’t know the number.

It’s said the average person has trouble memorizing numbers of more than seven digits. That doesn’t explain why most people can remember theirSocial Security number.

I even remember my student ID number from Nicholls State University, even though I attended there from 1971 to 1973. There’s no reasonwhatsoever for me to know that number, but I do.

The numbers which dominate our lives are apparently numberless. Itdoesn’t concern me much, though. It’s like in writing a book. Everyoneknows how. You take the letters to the alphabet and put them in a neworder nobody’s ever done before. Now, you try it.

Copyright © 1998, Wick Communications, Inc.

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