Do you have a pleasent memory of someone, and they have no idea you have it?

Like the title says, do you have a favorite memory that involves someone, but that person probably has no idea what that memory meant for you? I’ll give my example:
I had a friend in high school, a girl named Lauren. She was the best friend in the world to me back then. I talked with her about everything, we hung out, we talked online almost every night, and most importantly she was my ultimate confidant. Once I went off to college (she was a year below me, still in high school) our relationship slowly deteriorated into nothing, and I haven’t spoken to her in a good 5 years now. But one of my favorite memories in the world I have, is of something she did for me…

My favorite food/drink combination in the world is Mini Oreos and Cherry Pepsi. I think that combo is better than cookies and milk, bread and butter, cake and ice cream. I was also in the drama club at my high school and had a pretty good role in a very funny play, and I was pretty funny in it (not to pat my own back or anything…), Lauren went to a different high school than I did and I invited her to come. She said she wouldn’t miss it (and that’s a quote).

The night of the show also happened to be my birthday. So the day of the show came and went and I did my acting and the play was done, and after every play we would go out and mingle amongst the audience. I went out and while talking with the people who went to my high school, here comes Lauren with a birthday card, a bag of Mini Oreos, and a 2 liter of Cherry Pepsi. After that we probably made small talk and maybe hung out…I don’t know, I can’t remember that far.
The fact that she not only came to my play, but remembered the food/drink combo that I loved, and gave that to me the night of both my birthday and my play; that’s just something that I will remember for the rest of my life, and because of the amount of time that has passed since we last talked I’m sure she has no idea how much that meant to me.
Any others?

Another high school story…

Junior year (1989-90), English class. I sat in front of Jessica. Jessica had a very pleasing and hypnotic voice, to my ears, in spite of the fact that she wasn’t the most eloquent of readers when it came to reading things out loud in class.

With her speaking directly at the back of my head, only a few feet away, I would drift away to a relaxing place just listening to her voice, regardless of what words she was reading.

We were acquaintances, but never friends, even though we played on the same competitive teams once or twice. I’m quite sure she has no idea the effect her voice had on me, and I’m just fine with that.

During one quarter of college, I got to know a fellow classmate in my astronomy class. We would routinely get together and work on the homework assignments throughout the quarter. Finally, we had our last final of the quarter and we went and had lunch together. We reminisced at another quarter gone by, and talked about how we got to know each other. Then she said “I’m glad I met you.” It may not have meant much, maybe she says that to a lot of people, but it was a pretty significant comment to me. Stuff like that is usually implied, but hardly ever outright said, so it meant a lot to me.

The next quarter we didn’t have any classes together and so I saw her only sporadically, then she graduated and I never saw her again. I have no idea what she’s doing now or if she remembers me at all, but I’ll always remember that comment.

I was with a friend and her mother whom I had just met. We were walking and she told me that I had such a graceful walk. I’m sure she doesn’t remember as it was just an offhand remark to her but to me, who was not usually thought of as graceful in any way, it was a lovely comment and I remember it now, 30 years later, with the same pleasure I felt then.

Not any more, since I told him about it.

The first year I was in college, I could see pretty fast that I was:

  1. having a language problem with the Chrystalography teacher, if I could translate my planes and lines to his matrices I’d be fine,
  2. going to have Algebra and Calculus for September (in Spain you need to retake the exam on any F)
  3. going to get rid of Algebra in September, but probably still have Calculus left, which would mean getting stuck in First Year with only Calculus (argh).

My parents didn’t believe me. They didn’t believe me when I said I was doing well in the other three subjects, mind you, even after my grades started coming in and bearing my prediction.

After finals, I get home and Dad comes pick me up from the train. I’m expecting the first words out of his mouth to be “Hello, how was your trip? [voice of doom]We need to talk[/vod]”

Instead, he had a strange look on his face, like someone who’s just had a revelation. He asked about my trip, we made chitchat, and I asked “Dad, are you all right?”

Turns out that on the walk from our house to the station he’d run into the teacher I’d had in 12th grade for both Physics and Draftsmanship… and the teacher had, without having seen me for a year, pretty much made the same predictions I had! When the teacher said “she’ll have Calculus and Algebra for September, we’re very bad at teaching math, should have at least a 90% in Draftsmanship, Chemistry and Physics well… what is the sixth course, for Chem Eng 1st?,” Dad almost fainted. “Uh, she doesn’t have Draftsmanship.”
“No? It’s engineering!”
“Uh, yes, but Chemical, they get it in Third.”
“Oh. So what are the fifth and sixth?”
“Chrystalography and” “Oh, OK, she’ll do very well in that one, that’s a lot like drawing.”
“uh, Numeric Calculus” “She’ll do great in that.”

Never, ever, again, did Dad say his famous “we need to talk” to myself or to my brothers. I still could hug the teacher for that!
(Oh, I did solve my language problem: Chrysta, 100%)

Two people, from the same incident. I never knew their names.

I was in a motorcycle accident. A car bumped the cycle I was riding on as a passenger. Felt that, and I guess I went ass over teakettle. The next thing I know I’m sitting up on the curb. A bystander is there with me, and she sits beside me and holds my hand, kind of soothing me, till the ambulance comes. I was in shock, and I didn’t get her name. She disappeared and didn’t see her again.

In the emergency room the first person that comes in to treat me is a nurse. She walks around to face me and what can I say? Something about the look on her face, I can feel her concern. Kind of weird, I have never had before or since that sort of sensation. The nurse is really nice and gentle with her treatment, whereas the doctor, while polite, is obviously just “doing a job” and to her I’m just another patient.