“Jan. 24, 2011 – This book was dropped in the snow – sorry”

Scrawled on the inside cover of my precalculus textbook, this message, with yellow streaks of subsequent water damage, marks the mistake of an all too kind student. The idiosyncrasy and goofiness of deciding to apologize to all future holders of a textbook you damaged first struck me with laughter. However, the date of the note provoked more thought.

2011. Assuming the person who wrote this note graduated in 2011, they have been long gone from FHC for a couple years now, and have likely graduated from college recently too. The likelihood of more than a few current students knowing this person stands quite low, and unless they left a lasting impression, few teachers probably think of them regularly. Sadly stated, this is the truth.

However, the quirky comment, more than five years after its initial drafting, struck me with its uniquity. Would its author be surprised that an in-the-moment note would inspire so much thinking five years down the line? Probably. Would its author even remember writing the note after this much time has gone by? Likely not. Still, it struck me all the same.

Each of us leave our own marks of permanence. Whether it be an enduring conversation, a lasting impression, or a note jotted in a textbook, one can never be sure when they will leave an impression that will last a lifetime. Seemingly nothing but absurdity dictates which facets of our beings last the longest in others minds. Human memory functions not through means of rationality. So, all we can do is just be, and be at our best.

Anything may last forever. Even a damaged textbook.