I can not remember names very well. I see people every day and try
to avoid the embarrassment of not remembering their name. I have worked
at the same basic location for thirty two years. I have lived in the
same basic location for forty five years. I never knew the mailman's
name or the name of the crazy bitch across the street. The old man
walking the dog had a name I suppose. The dog's name was Rusty. I
usually just say "I know you" or "I should remember your name" and leave
it at that.
The interesting aspect of memory is that I have a massive list of names in my head that do not have bodies, shapes or definitions to go with them. For instance, there are two "Nevels" in my head. I am not completely sure these are even people. They could be a transliteration of an evil navel orange or something at the nano level whatever that may be. There is an "insergrevious" in my noggin clanking around and I know it is a makeup word but it is not a name so I can remember it. I know Ferrel Pickering and although he may look a little different now, I would recognize him even after forty years and a fire. My brain is filled with Colchicine, Ilse of Langerhans, Bundles of His and I know what these names belong to. I am sure I only heard these names two or three times in my life and I am also sure that if I was tested on them while in college I failed to remember them. Yet, thirty five years later I think about them during a safety lecture on the evils of eyeglasses without side shields. But ask me to remember who I just met thirteen seconds ago for the fifth time and I am clueless. Names and faces do not stick together in my brain. I am sure I need to put more effort into it but even when I look at the face and repeat the name three times, by the third time I have forgotten Larry and replace it with whatever I think they look like. Almost no one looks like a Tina or a Mark. Freds usually look like Freds. Annie always looks like an Annie.
I remember the lady's name Emily Happylap and only recently realized I made her up. She had a friend, Connie Clapsaddle. While on an ill-advised coaching stint for some Junior Varsity girls softball team, I had a bunch of names to remember and I verbalized to the girls that I was very, very bad with names. They reassured me that they did not care and that I would get it soon. "Get what" was all I could think of while they were telling me their names. To my dismay there were two Crystals, a Crissy, and a Christina. All of them were blonds I thought. When they all decide to undress and redress in the baseball dugout (because it was the only place private) while I was working on the lineup, I turned around and saw eleven fifteen year old girls in their underwear. I said Christina, what is your....holy shit I am going to jail. The two Crystals were not natural blonds I can tell you that much.
I forget names all the time but I never forget numbers. I have know the number "3" for going on fifty five years. I never forget it. I remember 2.2 but I do not know what it is for. I remember 5 divided by 9 plus 32 as a conversion of centigrade to Fahrenheit and can even do the math quickly in my head. I could not have done that eleven years ago to save my life. I do remember Pi, a name and the number associated with it, 3.1415 although I knew far more digits years ago. I remember the number 451 as the temperature at which book paper burns. Zero is the number of times I got laid in high school and two thousand six hundred and three is the number if times I tried to change that number to at least one. I was number "10" on my jerseys in all the sporting events in high School except Wrestling. Wrestling did not have numbers, just way to many hands and no good places to put them. Four is the number of times I told my wrestling opponent that "if he grabbed me there again I would kill him" and I meant it.
My memory is selective and arbitrary at the same time. I make up so many statistics and numbers based on things I have read or heard that I cannot trust the results. People do not know that I make them up. Maybe they do but they are close enough for sake of a conversation. My mom thinks I remember when I was born. I remind people that they said things and they say, "I never said that". Of course you did, where else would I have heard it. I am not on drugs. It is possible I am crazy like an upside down duck but I am not diffusional, I mean delusional. My memory serves me well and I am quite pleased with it. I am not always correct with names or numbers but I just do not care.
The interesting aspect of memory is that I have a massive list of names in my head that do not have bodies, shapes or definitions to go with them. For instance, there are two "Nevels" in my head. I am not completely sure these are even people. They could be a transliteration of an evil navel orange or something at the nano level whatever that may be. There is an "insergrevious" in my noggin clanking around and I know it is a makeup word but it is not a name so I can remember it. I know Ferrel Pickering and although he may look a little different now, I would recognize him even after forty years and a fire. My brain is filled with Colchicine, Ilse of Langerhans, Bundles of His and I know what these names belong to. I am sure I only heard these names two or three times in my life and I am also sure that if I was tested on them while in college I failed to remember them. Yet, thirty five years later I think about them during a safety lecture on the evils of eyeglasses without side shields. But ask me to remember who I just met thirteen seconds ago for the fifth time and I am clueless. Names and faces do not stick together in my brain. I am sure I need to put more effort into it but even when I look at the face and repeat the name three times, by the third time I have forgotten Larry and replace it with whatever I think they look like. Almost no one looks like a Tina or a Mark. Freds usually look like Freds. Annie always looks like an Annie.
I remember the lady's name Emily Happylap and only recently realized I made her up. She had a friend, Connie Clapsaddle. While on an ill-advised coaching stint for some Junior Varsity girls softball team, I had a bunch of names to remember and I verbalized to the girls that I was very, very bad with names. They reassured me that they did not care and that I would get it soon. "Get what" was all I could think of while they were telling me their names. To my dismay there were two Crystals, a Crissy, and a Christina. All of them were blonds I thought. When they all decide to undress and redress in the baseball dugout (because it was the only place private) while I was working on the lineup, I turned around and saw eleven fifteen year old girls in their underwear. I said Christina, what is your....holy shit I am going to jail. The two Crystals were not natural blonds I can tell you that much.
I forget names all the time but I never forget numbers. I have know the number "3" for going on fifty five years. I never forget it. I remember 2.2 but I do not know what it is for. I remember 5 divided by 9 plus 32 as a conversion of centigrade to Fahrenheit and can even do the math quickly in my head. I could not have done that eleven years ago to save my life. I do remember Pi, a name and the number associated with it, 3.1415 although I knew far more digits years ago. I remember the number 451 as the temperature at which book paper burns. Zero is the number of times I got laid in high school and two thousand six hundred and three is the number if times I tried to change that number to at least one. I was number "10" on my jerseys in all the sporting events in high School except Wrestling. Wrestling did not have numbers, just way to many hands and no good places to put them. Four is the number of times I told my wrestling opponent that "if he grabbed me there again I would kill him" and I meant it.
My memory is selective and arbitrary at the same time. I make up so many statistics and numbers based on things I have read or heard that I cannot trust the results. People do not know that I make them up. Maybe they do but they are close enough for sake of a conversation. My mom thinks I remember when I was born. I remind people that they said things and they say, "I never said that". Of course you did, where else would I have heard it. I am not on drugs. It is possible I am crazy like an upside down duck but I am not diffusional, I mean delusional. My memory serves me well and I am quite pleased with it. I am not always correct with names or numbers but I just do not care.
