Gerard

That’s the trouble with reunions, Gerard. Someone you remember won’t remember you.
     It has been almost forty years, after all, but you really can believe me this time: When Mary (whom I also can’t remember) just called you “Gerry,” I suddenly remembered that, when I was ten years old, I did indeed have a friend named “Jerry” who sort of looked like you. And, really, shouldn’t that count for something?
     But I’ll tell you what, I’ve got a handful of old memories I never could put a name to, and I bet at least one of is you. So, listen . . .