On Memories....
"The things we remember best are those best forgotten"
Baltasar Gracain
How true that statement is. For me, that is. There are some people in my life who seem to forget only the important things and remember the trivial. Such as the money I borrowed from them 15 years ago. For me, I remember, with painful reality, every stupid thing I have ever said or done. Take for example the relationship I have with my brother: I can clearly remember destroying a Lego castle he built, I can remember his tears, how upset he was and how he looked at me with genuine pain in his eyes. 30 years later I am still apologetic every time I see him. I have apologised every time I have been with him and had a few too many drinks, and yet he still has no bloody idea what I am talking about.
I can also remember the stupid comments I made in front of school friends of mine. Just the other day I went to fetch my daughter from school and there was a mother picking up her daughter. I recognised her as a contemporary of mine, and rushed over to say “Hi”. Then I remembered that I had once made an idiotic comment in front of her – what, doesn’t matter, but even as I write this I am turning crimson. So I snuck over and whispered, “ Hello Jane, how are you.” I really expected her to turn round and say “Hi, how are you, I am so glad you came to say hello, I could never have done it if I had said such a stupid thing!” Instead she said “ Do I know you?”
I could not believe it; she could not even remember me, let alone my stupid comments. Incidents like this are not infrequent. I avoid shop assistants because five years ago I asked for a size 30 when I am obviously a 34…well 38. I have crossed streets because I have seen people that where once at a party and I was wearing leg warmers – hey, it was the eighties. You listened to Modern Talking! I have a friend who is a music critic, and I just pray he doesn’t remember that I actually bought the Kim Wilde album.
My memory haunts me. If my life was to flash before me it would be one embarrassing blunder after another – the people I have hurt, humiliated, embarrassed, pissed off, lied to, cheated (that includes me) – I will not forget a second of it. But they, of course, have forgotten every incident, unless it happened in the last 24 hours. I consol myself in the knowledge that my friends have forgotten the worst of me, my enemies have made up even better stories than my worst, and the rest have probably forgotten about my existence.
The other trick my memory plays is to remember people without actually recalling their personality. I have occasionally ended up at a bar and recognised an old school friend. After the second drink I remember that actually this was the school loser, I hated his guts, and nothing has changed. Except now I have already given him my phone number and will have to move cities to avoid his calls.
So I have taught myself the following: Very few people will remember your mistakes and stupid comments, even if they do remember you. I now treat faces from the past as if they are brand new and form my own adult opinions anew. Just the other day I saw a chap across the room at a party. I recognised him and went to say “Hello, I’m sure we were at school together.”
“Bloody right!” He replied, at the top of his voice. “ You’re the prick that left my sister to go out with my girlfriend, and by the way, where are those leg warmers you borrowed from me the day you came to my house and broke my Modern Talking Album.” I guess some of us do remember the important things after all.
Baltasar Gracain
How true that statement is. For me, that is. There are some people in my life who seem to forget only the important things and remember the trivial. Such as the money I borrowed from them 15 years ago. For me, I remember, with painful reality, every stupid thing I have ever said or done. Take for example the relationship I have with my brother: I can clearly remember destroying a Lego castle he built, I can remember his tears, how upset he was and how he looked at me with genuine pain in his eyes. 30 years later I am still apologetic every time I see him. I have apologised every time I have been with him and had a few too many drinks, and yet he still has no bloody idea what I am talking about.
I can also remember the stupid comments I made in front of school friends of mine. Just the other day I went to fetch my daughter from school and there was a mother picking up her daughter. I recognised her as a contemporary of mine, and rushed over to say “Hi”. Then I remembered that I had once made an idiotic comment in front of her – what, doesn’t matter, but even as I write this I am turning crimson. So I snuck over and whispered, “ Hello Jane, how are you.” I really expected her to turn round and say “Hi, how are you, I am so glad you came to say hello, I could never have done it if I had said such a stupid thing!” Instead she said “ Do I know you?”
I could not believe it; she could not even remember me, let alone my stupid comments. Incidents like this are not infrequent. I avoid shop assistants because five years ago I asked for a size 30 when I am obviously a 34…well 38. I have crossed streets because I have seen people that where once at a party and I was wearing leg warmers – hey, it was the eighties. You listened to Modern Talking! I have a friend who is a music critic, and I just pray he doesn’t remember that I actually bought the Kim Wilde album.
My memory haunts me. If my life was to flash before me it would be one embarrassing blunder after another – the people I have hurt, humiliated, embarrassed, pissed off, lied to, cheated (that includes me) – I will not forget a second of it. But they, of course, have forgotten every incident, unless it happened in the last 24 hours. I consol myself in the knowledge that my friends have forgotten the worst of me, my enemies have made up even better stories than my worst, and the rest have probably forgotten about my existence.
The other trick my memory plays is to remember people without actually recalling their personality. I have occasionally ended up at a bar and recognised an old school friend. After the second drink I remember that actually this was the school loser, I hated his guts, and nothing has changed. Except now I have already given him my phone number and will have to move cities to avoid his calls.
So I have taught myself the following: Very few people will remember your mistakes and stupid comments, even if they do remember you. I now treat faces from the past as if they are brand new and form my own adult opinions anew. Just the other day I saw a chap across the room at a party. I recognised him and went to say “Hello, I’m sure we were at school together.”
“Bloody right!” He replied, at the top of his voice. “ You’re the prick that left my sister to go out with my girlfriend, and by the way, where are those leg warmers you borrowed from me the day you came to my house and broke my Modern Talking Album.” I guess some of us do remember the important things after all.
3 Comments:
"people will remember your mistakes and stupid comments, even if they do remember you."
- ah but you forgot the important qualifier for this statement. Unless you think they've forgotten. Sod's law innit?
Damn, that's funny ... and sadly true for me as well. I can see mental pictures of things that happened long ago, and describe them with ease, painting verbal pictures from my memory.
Sometimes having a brain sucks.
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