She wrote this poem on New Year’s Eve 2017.
Forgettable that’s what I am
So forgettable except to Uncle Sam
So forgettable am I
Like a song of love
That’s out of date
So forgettable though I’m there to see
Am I so forgettable
Why can’t they see me
Life is hard enough to endure
I want to be remembered, not forgotten
That’s for sure.
It must be a painful time for anyone to be alone on New Year’s Eve. As a centenarian, there is much to look back on, but little to look forward to, absent a religious belief or impending visits from family.. We all share that fear of being forgotten. For most of us, we last in someone’s memory for one or maybe two generations. Of the hundred billion people ever to live on the planet, those who have not been forgotten number a trivially tiny percentage. Until recent times, the ability to leave something of oneself was limited to only the very few. Will our progeny in the 22nd Century be our “Followers” and take the time to scroll through thousands of Instagram photos to learn about us? Doubtful.