What’s in a name?

I want you to know that I’m sorry I forgot your name. I am speaking to specific individuals…. I want you to know that I’m sorry I forgot your name. I am speaking to specific individuals. You know who you are. Unfortunately, I don’t – and that’s the issue we face.

In high school, things were easier. If I forgot someone’s name, I would just wait until he went to the bathroom. Then I would look in the front of his textbook. Sometimes, I would just look in the textbook while the person was sitting there: “What’re you doing, Lewis?” “I’m stealing your textbook, cause I already emptied your bank account,” I said.

When I was in high school, that kind of off-the-wall humor was pretty standard – you could just say something that didn’t make sense, and it’d be funny. Sometimes, though, the plan backfired because people don’t always write their names like they’re supposed to do. Then I would end up calling someone by the name of the textbook’s previous owner. Awkward!

And there were other times the plan backfired because people would think I really stole all their savings. More awkward! The most awkward time was when I had really stolen someone’s savings, cause once you thieve someone’s identity, forgetting the identity is a whole other slap in the face. I would be flattered if someone stole my identity and said, “The money was nice, but I just really thought Lewis Lehe had a ring to it.”

Even though I can’t remember names, I can usually remember facts and narratives relating to a person I’ve met. So, if you meet me for the second time, don’t get offended if I call you, “Old Blue Eyes,” “Clarion Kid,” “Cute Girl Who Kept Leaning On Me,” “Dude Attacked by Muskrat,” “Total Badass Who Pulled a Fake Samurai Sword On the Guy Who Punched In His Window and Bled All Over Meyran” or “One-Sixteenth American Indian Kid.” Here I feel pressed to comment: People are just constantly telling me they are one-sixteenth American Indian. One or two per week. Enough that I meet one cumulative American Indian per month.

The point here is that I never forget if someone is one-sixteenth American Indian, which is pretty good considering it’s impossible to tell from looks. So, go ahead and tell me that you’re one-sixteenth American Indian as soon as we meet. Then I’ll have something to remember you by, and it’s probably true, anyway.

Either tell me that, or tell me your bank account number and sign a white scrap of paper with a dark, leaky ballpoint pen. Press down.

You shouldn’t mind people who forget names so much. Remembering a person’s fun facts and personality features is more important than remembering a name, anyway. Just think: You can live happily for decades after forgetting your spouse’s name, surprising her daily with perfect pet names that express your everlasting affection.

But if you forget your spouse’s favorite color, birthday or something as obscure as to whom your spouse is married, the seas can get rocky.

I plan on being the type of husband who always picks the perfect present, a present that resonates with the person my wife is deep down inside. But that doesn’t mean I won’t be the type of husband who makes his wife wear a nametag for the first few years. As for my wife, she’ll be the type who likes getting perfect presents, and also the type who doesn’t mind wearing a nametag.

And hey, forgetting names can be a blessing in disguise. I’m never tempted to gossip. People are always asking me if I hate so-and-so: “I hate Josh Green!” they say and ask, “Do you?” I look the complainer in the face and say, “I can’t remember who that is. Gossiping is crass.”

You can’t talk about someone behind his back if you can’t remember who he is once you’re behind his back. In fact, pretty much all you can do is make fun of his back, and backs are never objects of contempt or ridicule.

“Like water off a duck’s back,” they say, referring to human backs. Sometimes people write secret notes on backs that say, “Kick Me,” but those aren’t creative. If anyone laughs at a “Kick Me” sign it’s in the sense of, “I can’t believe that someone – some absolute card! – has resurrected that supposedly common but in reality seldom-exercised classic of mischief and daring!”

What would really be good is if people put secret notes on backs that have the name of the person whose back it is. I would really think you clever for doing that. Also, it would make my life convenient. People can tell right away when I’m reading the name tag if it’s on their chest.

People can take days to tell their trust fund is liquidated and converted to high-yield Argentine bonds secured in a Dubai safe-deposit box.

All I’m saying here is, “Give me a break,” and “What’s in a name? Your name. What letters? In what order? Thanks! Yeah I remembered I just wanted to know how you spelled John cause some people do it different.”

Lewis wants to remember your name. E-mail it to him at ljl10@pitt.edu.