Swiss Cheese Mind

Since I was never very good at sports, or much of anything else, one of the rare qualities I could take some small measure of personal pride in was my ability to remember random, frequently useless bits of lore, legend or unimportant fact. In particular, I was good at movie and television trivia.

Throughout high school and college, I devoured books and magazines about films and film-makers. I don’t know whether it was due to my youth or just a keen interest, but my brain was able to retain that information like a fat sponge. For years it was a useful party trick, and I think that often people thought I was much smarter than I was because I didn’t just know the year a film was released, but also who wrote it, directed it and whether the lead actor had an affair with the lead actress during filming.

Fortunately, they didn’t ask me any questions that would require Algebra.

Before we all had access to the World Wide Web, friends and family members would call me for the sole purpose of asking, “Who was that guy in that show? You know…the one with the girl?” I’m not sure what was scarier…that they would ask such a vague question…or that I would usually know exactly what guy and what show they were talking about.

So, I had a reputation. In retrospect, it was kind of sad and pointless reputation, but it was basically all I had, so I shined it up and placed it on my mantel. Did you need to know the chronological filmography of Spielberg, Scorcese, DePalma or Hitchcock? I was your guy. Curious about the color template of cinematographer Gordon Willis, or the editing style of Verna Fields? I could regal you for hours. It was a hobby that was more interesting to me than any job I ever had.

With the advent of the Internet, I found new avenues of information. Websites devoted to the kind of details I loved; operated by kindred spirits. I learned the term “film geek” and recognized immediately that I had always been one…I just didn’t know the name.

My lovely wife Connie, who…like most women…had dreamed of marrying a tall, dark, rugged and handsome Sean Connery or Sam Elliott type had to adjust her expectations a wee bit to accommodate my average height, pale skin, and injury prone clumsiness. I was lucky that throughout our months of dating, I often had a cold, which fortunately lowered the timbre of my voice by at least an octave. By the time my sinuses cleared and she heard my natural speaking tone, with its occasional higher pitched falsetto exclamations, we were already married. Occasionally I will attempt to treat her to a Connery style Scottish brogue, usually failing miserably, but even after a week of strep throat I don’t try to imitate the gravelly baritone manliness of Sam Elliott. I don’t think that her heart could take the laughter.

Connie was not aware that she had married a “film geek.” She thought that I was a smart guy with a lot of potential. Little did she know that my knowledge was primarily focused in areas that allowed for minimal income producing possibilities. Still, I was somewhat useful to have around.

If we were at a movie or watching a television show and someone came on screen that looked familiar, all she basically had to do was glance my way and I’d give her a brief rundown of that persons film credits. Eventually I would say the name of the film or show that she remembered so she would nod and say “that’s it.” I may not have been Sean Connery, but it was my own little Bond moment.

Recently, however, I’ve noticed that I’m not quite up to my game. Connie will give me that questioning glance during a movie and I’ll hesitate, finally telling her, “You know…he was on that show we liked. The one about the doctors.”

I know that it’s age. Like the rest of my body, my brain is slowing down. I’m just not as sharp as I once was. It feels like I’m half asleep all the time.

My short term memory is pretty well shot as well. I’ll go to the grocery store for bread and milk…that’s all…two things (!)…and as I’m driving home later with four bags of groceries that I hadn’t planned to buy, I’ll realize that I didn’t get one (or both) of the two things I went there to get in the first place.

I have recently found myself watching a television show for 30 or 45 minutes, then when a commercial comes on I’ll channel surf (I am a guy, after all) and after a few minutes of perusing what else is on, I’ll completely forget what I was originally watching. I could say that part of that is based on the fact that television shows today are relatively forgettable, but it’s still pretty sad.

I can still remember the days when people, including my wife, said that I had a mind like a “steel trap.” Now I sometimes feel that drudging up memories is like trying to catch water with a fish net. I need to clear the cobwebs and spray some mental WD40 on my rusty hinges. It’s time to wake up.