In “When Harry Met Sally,” the Carrie Fisher character says: “Everyone thinks they have good taste and a sense of humor, but they can’t all possibly be right.” Or does she?* I just wrote that off the top of my head natural, to use a favorite Baltimore-ism, as opposed to checking it on IMDB. When Nicholson Baker wrote “U and I,” one of my favorite books, he did the same thing, trusted his memory of John Updike’s novels, then used footnotes to confess, oh so cheerfully, where he got it wrong.
Now I happen to have excellent taste and a fabulous sense of humor. But I will cop to not having two things that most human beings insist they have: A good memory and crackerjack instincts about other people. I have a hit-and-miss memory. In fact, I find it rather appalling how much slips out. A friend recently reminded me that I once told our boss to “Grow some balls, Mr. X.” That’s funny. (See, I told you I had a sense of humor.) That is, well, ballsy. But, while it sounds vaguely familiar, I don’t really remember it. I don’t doubt it and I can almost conjure up the scene, but only by deduction. I would have been in the cramped office we used in the State House. I was clearly on the phone. Was it about the John Arnick story? Hmmm . . . maybe.
On the other hand, I’ll never forget the time that the top boss, the absolute Numero Uno boss, inadvertently spat in another friend’s beer while talking to him at a party — and my friend drank it! And I’m not sure I was there at that exact moment, but I feel as if I was. That scene I can conjure perfectly in my mind — spittle flinging from those patrician lips, flying in slow-motion into my friend’s glass, him lifting it without hesitation, delivering the all-important message: I will drink your spit, sir. Did I witness it, however? Dubious.
If you have more than two decades on this planet, you probably don’t have a perfect memory, either. There are things you think you remember with startling clarity, but they may never have happened. It’s all Rashomon all the time, baby.
(Okay, but what about the human ability to judge character? Some people can do that pretty well. Interestingly, in my experience, the people who do it best are those who like people the least. I also had a cat who was great at it. When I had evil dates, she would launch herself off my forearm, leaving little parallel claw marks.)
*Marie: Everybody thinks they have good taste and a sense of humor but they couldn’t possibly all have good taste.
Damn close, if you ask me. But not perfect.
LOL ya’ll are funny!!!! sense of humor confirmed!!!
and just by mentioning when harry met sally you’ve proven your good taste!!
(Is one of us a dog???)
The older I get, the less I can remember. I think there’s just way too much up there and some has to leak out to make room for new information. Some people think I’m funny, but it’s usually when I’m not trying to be…
About that ‘crackerjack instincts about other people’? I was going to mention that, but the little angel sitting on my shoulder swatted me (and she can pack one hell of a wallop), so I decided to leave that one alone.
I often will tell Greg, what I think is a FUNNY story about something that happened to me and a friend, and he will look at me and say “I WAS THERE!” Which probably explains why it was so funny in the first place.
Only 5 more packing days!
I am definitely one of those people that remembers things from a very long time ago differently than how they exactly happened. I guess you could say I have a good ‘middle memory’. Ask me about something that happened within the last ten years and I’m golden. Anything before that, I’ll probably have my own memory of it, which will, no doubt, be better than the actual event. And ask me to go to the grocery store for three things without a list and I’ll come home with two out of the three, plus a bunch of unnecessary stuff!
And Laura, I heard you’re going to be in Rehobeth in August. Can’t wait to stop by and say ‘hi’!
In my house, we divide up those responsibilities. My husband has the perfect memory, I provide the levity. If we’re together at a cocktail party, his conversation is peppered with “Remember when we were in Venice and you …” He proceeds to regale the crowd with my salacious behavior, or untintentional faux pas, or particularly juicy bon mot. I have no memory of it. But I’m so much more interesing in the retelling.
I also have excellent taste-justlook at who my friends are. As for humor, I’m still working on improving that. However, since I received my Medicare card-I’ve enjoyed the excuse of having a diminished memory. Except of course for that last night at Bcon in Chicago (in the bar naturally) when Louise…well, nevermind. And wasn’t that Laura who…gosh, everything suddenly escapes me.
“Memories aren’t perfect. They’re just an interpretation, not a record. Memory can change the colour of a car or the shape of a room. And memories can be distorted.”
(He said, quoting Memento from memory.)
I’ve always thought that if we all had perfect memories we’d never have anything to talk about. There’d never be any questions in our conversations. Not a lot of fun.
Happily, while I have an eidetic memory with a speciality in useless junk like film quotes, the sorting mechanism for it is terrible and thus I’m a complete scatterbrain.
I have lousy taste and no sense of humor, or direction.
But I remember everything.
Why does my memory allow me to recall with perfect clarity every unkind word ever said to me but not let me remember that I was due at my internist’s office at 10:30 a.m. yesterday?
(The only benefit of this is that the more stressed I am, the funnier I get, so my sense of humor compensates when my mind goes on vacation!)
Paul, there’s at least one lie in the above. Or, perhaps, a very sophisticated joke.
I have a scattershot memory at best. What’s always funny is how my subonscious pops up answers to questions I had no idea I even knew. This mostly happens with Trivial Pursuit and school work. I’m also very good at faking that I know more than I really do.