Ah, memories!

I don’t mean to sound immodest, but I have an incredible memory. There is no detail so small, so insignificant or meaningless that it escapes my mind. This is something that baffles, fascinates and frustrates my husband.

One night we were watching “The Black Stallion”. This is a movie I had not seen since it was in theaters when I was a child. Half-way through the film, apropos of nothing I announced, “Cassolet.”

“What?” Mike asked.

“Cassolet. That’s the name of the horse.”

“I thought it was 'The Black.'"

“No, I mean the name of the horse playing the Black Stallion. It’s Cassolet.” Michael took a few minutes to ponder this revelation. Then he asked,

“Is this something that was a big deal when the movie came out? Was this a famous horse or something?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Okay. I give up. How do you know this?”

“I saw it in the credits.” I had his full attention now.

“You saw it in the credits?”

“Yes.”

“I thought you said the last time you saw this you were a kid.”

“I was.”

“So 25 years ago, you saw a name flicker on a movie screen and you remember it to this day.”

“Yep.”

“Okay, now explain to me how you know this but you haven’t quite nailed down your social security number.”

You see, there is one drawback to my fabulous memory. I only remember insignificant, useless information. If a particular nugget of information is something that will be of no use to me whatsoever, my mind puts it in some high priority memory file, never to be forgotten. I can’t ever remember exactly when my mother-in-law’s birthday is, but I DO remember that the boy my cousin had a crush on when she was in the ninth grade was born on December 14th. (His name was Nick.)

I can’t name more than three members of congress, BUT I do know that on Gilligan’s Island the Skipper’s first name was Jonas. His last name was Grumby. By the way, the Professor was named Roy Hinkly and Lovey Howell’s name was Eunice. Lovey was a nickname. This is but the tip of the TV trivia iceberg I have contained in my mind. But I’ve promised Michael I won't reveal everything I know since he feels that there is a circus out there somwhere just waiting to sign someone who can tell people exactly how the Skipper and Gilligan met.

I don’t have any idea why my mind clings to this information. I wish I could remember things that matter. I often wonder if there is some way to wipe out my mental hard drive to make room for data that will be useful for something more than winning radio contests. (Knowing the name of General Grant's horse is good for movie tickets, you know.)

So, no. I don’t know my driver’s license number. I’m not entirely sure who the governor is and I have no idea what my social security number is though I think there may be a nine in it. Or a six. An eight? Hmmm.

I'm not going to be able to help you much with the important questions in life, but if you ever need someone for your Trivial Pursuit team, give me a call. I’ll just be brushing up on the important stuff. “Just sit right back and you’ll hear a tale…”