Really.

I grew up a preacher's kid. Now, for those of you that don't know what that means, it implies that you grew up in coffee hours, pot-luck parties, and group gatherings of just about every stripe.

Until I was 16 that was all I knew.

Then there was college, work, office parties and the whole Ozzie and Harriet thing.

Where am I going with this? Well, last night I realize my life has come full circle and I'm at yet another 'event' and I'm talking with this wonderful women next to me, whom I've sat with at meeting tables many times, and for the life of me I could not remember her name!

How embarrassing...
 
   

 


 
 
wendyinchicago on
Re: This is a fictional story.
I'm better at remembering faces or things about a person than their name...I can relate.
jacksez on
Re: This is a fictional story.
So, being a preacher's kid, you knew about prayer.  And here you were with a prime reason to pray: pray that someone, who has never met this woman, doesn't approach you both to say hello, and then you'd have to introduce them to each other.  "Do you two know each other?"  ("Please, Lord, let them take it from here.")

When I meet someone I barely recall, I figure they don't recall my name, either.  So I toss in my name again as I say hello.  Takes the pressure off.
jimschweizer on
Re: This is a fictional story.
That was part of the problem... she was waiting to be introduced to the people on my left.... and I knew their names...
gianna on
Re: This is a fictional story.
Time to walk around the house. That's what my brother does when he forgets something. By the time he comes back around he usually remembers it. Haha.
jacksez on
Re: This is a fictional story.
Tell your brother that as he gets older, his trips around the house will become long treks across town--and then 25 mile marathons.
gianna on
Re: This is a fictional story.
Haha and we shouldn't worry if on one walk, he doesn't come back for a day or two.

 
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