“I have always been bad with names…”
So began a blog post I wrote many moons ago wherein I described how terrible I have always been at remembering people’s names.
So began a blog post I wrote many moons ago wherein I described how terrible I have always been at remembering people’s names.
The quote above is a link to that post, if you’re bothered. There’s quite a funny and true ‘story-against-myself’ at the root of it.
I mention it so that you know I haven’t forgotten that I’ve written about this stuff before. I haven’t. My memory is pretty darned good, I reckon… for everything except names.
I mention it so that you know I haven’t forgotten that I’ve written about this stuff before. I haven’t. My memory is pretty darned good, I reckon… for everything except names.
So, yeah, ‘Bad with Names’ that’s me and that’s always been me.
Only it’s getting worse.
The other evening seemed to offer an escalation in my uselessness at recalling names. Please allow me to briefly recount the events for you.
I was at Writer’s Group, which is a little thing I go to most alternate Monday evenings. It’s a low-key affair where a small number of people come and read out bits of their stuff and receive a little encouragement and perhaps a measure of constructive criticism. It’s small-time and nice. I like it.
Last Monday evening, one of the writers coined the phrase ‘That’s All She Wrote’ in the piece he read. I started to wax knowledgeable about the expression, rattling-on about how it most likely derived from the 'Dear John' letters which sweethearts sent to their on-duty soldiers to break up with them. Apparently there was a joke wherein a soldier told his buddies how he had got a letter from his girl that started ‘Dear John’ and his buddies said, ‘go ahead, read it out to us’ and he replied, ‘that’s all she wrote’.
That's when the name-blank thing happened.
I was recalling a famous Country singer of the 40’s and 50’s who died tragically young and who had penned many hits which live on to this day. He had written a song called ‘Dear John, I Sent Your Saddle Home’ in which the expression ‘That’s All She Wrote’ turned up.
Yes, but what was his name?
I won’t play this game with you now. It was Hank Williams, of course. You know that, I know that… I just couldn’t remember his damn name. I did what I usually do in these circumstances, I shut down all extraneous communication in order to try to summon the name from the depths of my recalcitrant mind. It wouldn’t come. The writer’s group looked on in growing apprehension as I (rather pointlessly, it has to be said) tried to think of Hank Williams’ name. “It starts with a ‘C’,” I remember saying at one point. That didn’t help much, as you can imagine.
So, okay, nothing all that unusual here. I couldn’t remember a name. Big deal. Yes, quite, but it’s what happened next that plumbed a new depth for me.
I suddenly remembered Leonard Cohen and his song ‘The Tower of Song’. It has a lyric that I like quite a lot and I am very good at remembering lyrics. I knew for a fact that the Country Singer (Hank Williams) was name-checked prominently in that song. So all I had to do was run through the lyrics til I got to the man's name. Easy.
I knew all the lyrics. I particularly like that Hank Williams verse. It’s got a lot of mood, I think. Here’s the verse, in case you don’t know it:
I said to Hank Williams,
“How lonely does it get?”
Hank Williams hasn't answered yet
But I hear him coughing
All night long
A hundred floors above me
In the Tower of Song.
Only it’s getting worse.
The other evening seemed to offer an escalation in my uselessness at recalling names. Please allow me to briefly recount the events for you.
I was at Writer’s Group, which is a little thing I go to most alternate Monday evenings. It’s a low-key affair where a small number of people come and read out bits of their stuff and receive a little encouragement and perhaps a measure of constructive criticism. It’s small-time and nice. I like it.
Last Monday evening, one of the writers coined the phrase ‘That’s All She Wrote’ in the piece he read. I started to wax knowledgeable about the expression, rattling-on about how it most likely derived from the 'Dear John' letters which sweethearts sent to their on-duty soldiers to break up with them. Apparently there was a joke wherein a soldier told his buddies how he had got a letter from his girl that started ‘Dear John’ and his buddies said, ‘go ahead, read it out to us’ and he replied, ‘that’s all she wrote’.
That's when the name-blank thing happened.
I was recalling a famous Country singer of the 40’s and 50’s who died tragically young and who had penned many hits which live on to this day. He had written a song called ‘Dear John, I Sent Your Saddle Home’ in which the expression ‘That’s All She Wrote’ turned up.
Yes, but what was his name?
I won’t play this game with you now. It was Hank Williams, of course. You know that, I know that… I just couldn’t remember his damn name. I did what I usually do in these circumstances, I shut down all extraneous communication in order to try to summon the name from the depths of my recalcitrant mind. It wouldn’t come. The writer’s group looked on in growing apprehension as I (rather pointlessly, it has to be said) tried to think of Hank Williams’ name. “It starts with a ‘C’,” I remember saying at one point. That didn’t help much, as you can imagine.
So, okay, nothing all that unusual here. I couldn’t remember a name. Big deal. Yes, quite, but it’s what happened next that plumbed a new depth for me.
I suddenly remembered Leonard Cohen and his song ‘The Tower of Song’. It has a lyric that I like quite a lot and I am very good at remembering lyrics. I knew for a fact that the Country Singer (Hank Williams) was name-checked prominently in that song. So all I had to do was run through the lyrics til I got to the man's name. Easy.
I knew all the lyrics. I particularly like that Hank Williams verse. It’s got a lot of mood, I think. Here’s the verse, in case you don’t know it:
I said to Hank Williams,
“How lonely does it get?”
Hank Williams hasn't answered yet
But I hear him coughing
All night long
A hundred floors above me
In the Tower of Song.
So I started to say this lyric aloud. I saw it as clear as day inside my head. Every word.
Every word… except Hanks' name.
It was the oddest thing. It was as if somebody had censored the song in my head, Tippexing-out every mention of the name. Everything else was recalled perfectly but the name was a blank.
I said to ***************,
“How lonely does it get?”
*********** hasn't answered yet
How bloody weird is that? Eh?
I got so frustrated with myself that some kind soul had to finally look it up on his phone and put me out of my misery.
I’ve always been bad with names.
But this, for me, was a whole new low.
Every word… except Hanks' name.
It was the oddest thing. It was as if somebody had censored the song in my head, Tippexing-out every mention of the name. Everything else was recalled perfectly but the name was a blank.
I said to ***************,
“How lonely does it get?”
*********** hasn't answered yet
How bloody weird is that? Eh?
I got so frustrated with myself that some kind soul had to finally look it up on his phone and put me out of my misery.
I’ve always been bad with names.
But this, for me, was a whole new low.