June 20, 2007
And You Are?

“Be glad to.”  So said I when Jan mentioned an article, claimed it was about me, in Oprah magazine.  “I’ll read it right after Holliday and Helton hit for the Rockies”.   But I spaced it. That night, at bedtime, the magazine was on my pillow opened to the suggested reading. It dealt with how folks, usually over the age of fifty, have a greater tendency toward “senior moments”, memory lapses where the brain goes dark at the most inconvenient of times.  

Written by Cathryn Jakobson Ramin, based on a book she authored on the same subject, the article detailed the difficulty among geezers of remembering names, where you put your car keys or suddenly wondering why in the world did I come into this room? 

If true, I was way old before my time.  Every one of those memory misadventures have been experienced on an oh so maddeningly consistent basis the past half century.  During my twenties the behavior was characterized as absent-minded with continual comparisons to the absent minded professor who took out his tie and wet his pants, in mid-life my daughters were often found apologizing for their forgetful father and now on the back nine of life forgetfulness has become a “senior moment.” 

But of all those memory black holes, where the brain is momentarily nothing more than a video screen suffering a power outage, none bedevils more than name recall.  Ms. Ramin states Roman aristocrats traveled with slaves whose duty it was to supply their masters with the names of acquaintances.  Today that responsibility falls to the spouse, people who have become masters of not only instant recall, but the ability to answer ventriloquist-like, not moving their lips while answering the oft asked question at a gathering “Quick, who is that, I’m supposed to know him.”  This is followed by a voice only I can hear whispering,  “It’s the, (insert correct name), he’s your, and then fill another blank with various occupations i.e. banker, dentist, the fellow you played golf with on men’s night two weeks ago, or “remember the colonoscopy?” 

Not that I stand alone in being a total divot at name recall.  A realtor friend recently detailed the embarrassment of an associate meeting a familiar face with no known to him name at a fund raising gathering.  “Haven’t we met before?” he asked the lady in question.  “Yes” she replied frostily, “Three weeks ago, you listed my house.” 

We, the name recall challenged, universally pray there’s a special super hot spot in Hades for folks who, when meeting you again after a long absence, say anything over two weeks, insist on asking “Do you remember me?”   

What’s the right answer?  “Haven’t a clue” hurts feelings, “Do I get three guesses” marks you as a smart mouth and “Didn’t you play left tackle for the Bronco’s during the Super Bowl years?” tends to offend females.  

Not that I’m the worst at the name recall challenge.  A since moved away businessman friend didn’t recognize a surprise guest at his office.  It was his brother.  Trying to make chicken salad of you know what, he offered, “Well, how was I suppose to recognize you when you live in Toronto?”

From now on that’s my response to the dreaded, “Do you remember me?’  Not since you moved to Toronto.