“Hi, Jayneann!”
I looked up from checking the ingredients on the coconut milk to see a familiar face next to me at the dairy case. She wore a friendly smile as she pushed her cart full of groceries, not just picnic items. I comment on this and she tells me that they'll be having a cookout tomorrow. How about us? she asks. Are we doing anything?
We talked for another moment before going our separate ways, wishing each other a good weekend.
She and her family regularly attend First Church, and we’ve been on a committee together this year.
I've felt so bad so many times. I've mentally kicked myself for this forgetfulness. And I still wish I'd have remembered "Keira" as soon as I saw her face (or Lianne, the last time it happened). I like calling people by their names. I once read that a person's favorite word to hear is... their name.
A few years ago, I was thrilled to read about why walking through a door can cause us to forget. We’ve all experienced it. You get up and head to the next room on a mission. But by some strange circumstance, you’ve totally forgotten what you came for once you go through the doorway. Look it up! It turns out there really is a “doorway effect” that has little to do with whether you pay attention or how hard you try. As I understand it, our minds are hardwired to purge what it thinks we won’t need any more.
Our memories are contextual. Maybe that’s part of the reason I can’t speak much Spanish, but when I’m at a Latino/Latina Festival, I can understand enough to smile as a youngster tries to wheedle his mother into giving in on something or when a couple of teenage girls comment on a passerby.
I don’t have any theologically profound thoughts to attach to this. (Maybe my mind is tired.) I’ll leave it to you to puzzle over. Let me know what you come up with.
I keep saying “she” because, in that moment, I couldn’t remember her name. It was only after she mentioned that Seth and Emma were stocking up on something elsewhere in the store that it came to me: Keira, yes.
I used to think it was just me, that I was terrible at names. Okay, I was pretty bad. But I’ve also come to realize that context is everything. (That was actually a phrase that came up again and again in seminary.) And when it comes to remembering names – for me – context matters more than I would've ever thought possible. Whether I know someone peripherally or quite well, there’s a good chance that if I meet them in a different context – like if I know someone from church then see them at the supermarket – I’m going to be at a loss, at least temporarily.
I used to think it was just me, that I was terrible at names. Okay, I was pretty bad. But I’ve also come to realize that context is everything. (That was actually a phrase that came up again and again in seminary.) And when it comes to remembering names – for me – context matters more than I would've ever thought possible. Whether I know someone peripherally or quite well, there’s a good chance that if I meet them in a different context – like if I know someone from church then see them at the supermarket – I’m going to be at a loss, at least temporarily.
I've felt so bad so many times. I've mentally kicked myself for this forgetfulness. And I still wish I'd have remembered "Keira" as soon as I saw her face (or Lianne, the last time it happened). I like calling people by their names. I once read that a person's favorite word to hear is... their name.
But I'm gentler with myself now. I've learned that it isn’t just me. It’s not that I’m sloppy or don’t really try or just don’t care enough to remember. There’s psychology at work here. (Psychology is fascinating, but then I like most sciences.)
A few years ago, I was thrilled to read about why walking through a door can cause us to forget. We’ve all experienced it. You get up and head to the next room on a mission. But by some strange circumstance, you’ve totally forgotten what you came for once you go through the doorway. Look it up! It turns out there really is a “doorway effect” that has little to do with whether you pay attention or how hard you try. As I understand it, our minds are hardwired to purge what it thinks we won’t need any more.
Our memories are contextual. Maybe that’s part of the reason I can’t speak much Spanish, but when I’m at a Latino/Latina Festival, I can understand enough to smile as a youngster tries to wheedle his mother into giving in on something or when a couple of teenage girls comment on a passerby.
I don’t have any theologically profound thoughts to attach to this. (Maybe my mind is tired.) I’ll leave it to you to puzzle over. Let me know what you come up with.
No comments:
Post a Comment