We have these moments when we are in public places and someone says something unexpectedly that gets stored in our memories forever.

I have a friend of mine who, as they say, if it weren’t for bad luck he would have no luck at all. As one health issue after another forced him into early retirement, he tried to keep his long time marriage together by convincing his wife to downsize from their empty nest and move to a smaller house, but she would have nothing to do with it. A divorce ensued, and despite his continuing health decline, she was awarded half his pension.

He has had 14 surgeries for cancer and for intestinal problems where surgical mesh holding his stomach together had become infected that has now left him with severe and permanent digestive dysfunction.

During removal of an infected wisdom tooth, he developed swelling in his jaw that led to sepsis, which nearly caused death. He has filed for disability three times and been denied three times. He has no home, no insurance, no money and owes $7,000 in attorney fees.

What does he have? Before he was to have his gall bladder removed, he said these words to me on the phone: “I’ll call you after the surgery if I’m not dead yet.” I laughed. He laughed. Sometimes a sense of humor is all that someone has left.

Another time, I was standing in a bar to take home a pizza, and a man was standing next to me placing a takeout order. The bartender asked him if he wanted a drink while he was waiting for his food.

“Oh, I don’t drink,” he announced loud and proud enough for many of the bar’s patrons to hear. “I don’t smoke marijuana. I don’t curse and I haven’t missed church in 12 years, and that one time was because I was sick.”

“I’m so happy for you,” said a grizzled man sipping a beer and wearing a Vietnam veteran cap while he sat on a stool in front of the man with the big mouth. “Your fabulous life oughta get you a penthouse suite in heaven.”

He looked up at the mouth. “Look around this bar. When we all get in the afterlife elevator, the arrow could be pointing down rather than up, and we’ll be OK with that.”

Now he had all the ears around him. “We share our pains and our joys though a glass of whiskey, a bottle of beer, a rant of dirty words and through the smoke coming from a joint. You will never be welcomed here. You’re way too boring for us.”

The place got very quiet for a heavy moment as we waited for Mr. Perfect’s reply. Someone from the side of the bar began to applaud. “Let me buy that man a drink!” he said, pointing to the grizzled veteran.

Then, one by one, everyone stood and clapped their hands. With takeout box in hand, Mr. Perfect made a quick exit.

When I dropped off my car for repair, I heard this response from a customer to a familiar question.

“Hello. How are you today?”

“I’d be much better if I didn’t have to come here,” he said with a smile.

I was at the checkout register in a grocery store and the same question came up.

“How are you?” asks the cashier to the man in front of me.

“I really can’t tell,” he said. “Anyway, if you ask me again in 10 minutes, you might get a different answer.”

Here’s yet another.

“How are you?” asked the cashier at a different store.

“Since you asked,” said an elderly man checking out, “give me an hour and I’ll tell you exactly how I am.”

Sometimes the one-liners that bring smiles to our faces can brighten our days. A few years ago, after a week of gloomy, chilly weather, I walked outside my townhouse and met a maintenance man who was raking up the last leaves of fall.

“Good morning,” I said. He held his rake still and looked at me.

“Another beautiful day in the Poconos,” he quipped. “You know, when somebody not from around here asks me what’s the weather like most of the year in these mountains, I give them the same answer I give anyone else.”

“And what’s that?” I asked.

“Perpetual November.”

Many years ago, I had attended an awards ceremony for New Jersey music educators at the Atlantic City Convention Hall. When they announced the winner of the Music Educator of the Year Award, the recipient who sat behind me looked stunned. His wife literally had to push him out of his chair to get up and receive the award. As he waited for the applause to subside, you could see that he was nervous. He gripped the podium and rocked back and forth in his stance.

When the room became silent, we listened for an acceptance speech that was obviously not prepared.

“I am humiliated by being chosen for this award,” he said. A gasp came from the audience. He slammed his hands on the podium and lowered his head.

“I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I said that. I’m just so nervous. I’m not good in front of big rooms like this filled with my peers. I meant to say I’m humbled.”

Once we realized his remark was a blunder and not a joke, we all stood and gave him a standing ovation.

We don’t control our memories. We forget what we should remember and remember what we should forget. Whether it be something unexpected said at a local bar, a trivial remark made in a grocery store or a comment spoken in a convention hall, we have to wonder why our brains save some remarks and delete others.

Email Rich Strack at richiesadie11@gmail.com