There are so many things we want to remember and can’t. And then there are the little episodes we’d like to forget that stay with us. Here are a few.
Did I Say That? — Pete Philipps
Many years ago we were driving across the country and stopped one night for gas somewhere in the West. This was at a time when gas station attendants still looked under the hood and checked the oil. The man who checked our oil had only one arm and so stuck a flashlight into his mouth the better to see. Said I, to my long-lasting embarrassment: ‘Can I give you a hand?’”
Still Haunted — Alma Flesch
The stupidest thing I ever said still haunts me.
As a member of the Council on Foreign Relations, my husband, Steve, came in contact with statesmen, diplomats and other well known public figures. Once, when I was his guest at one of the Council’s luncheons, he introduced me to Ted Sorenson, whose name everyone knew because he had been an advisor to both John and Robert Kennedy and was the author of many books. Meaning to tell Sorenson that Steve had told me about the interesting conversations the two of them had engaged in, I instead gushed: “Oh, Mr. Sorensen, I heard so much about you!”
Never Again — Andrew Eisner
In college, I worked as a stagehand at Jorgenson Auditorium at the University of Connecticut in Storrs, Connecticut. Many big-name artists and performances passed through the auditorium and I got to enjoy many of them from unusual vantage points like looking down on the Spanish pianist Alicia de Larrocha from high up in the ceiling behind the spotlights. One night, a chamber music group was about to go on stage when the call went out for anyone who could read music and turn pages for the pianist. I could read music and figured how hard could it be. I flubbed more than a few pages, got a few dirty looks from the pianist, and vowed never to be a page turner again. It’s a wise person who knows their limitations.
Not Quite Fluent — Judith Wasow
My new husband and I were on an extended trip in Europe, visiting friends and family who had been unable to attend our wedding. While Tom was a seasoned traveler, it was my first trip abroad. My French was neither fluent nor floral, but functional. His was non-existent.
After some time in France, I was exhausted from having to do all the talking, and eager to move on to the German speaking countries where he would take over all the necessary interactions. We boarded a bus to take us to the train station, and hence with sweet relief I said to the driver, “La guerre, s’il vous plait”. “La guerre est fini, Madam”, he replied, but expressed willingness to take us to la gare, the station.
My fellow passengers enjoyed my mistake, and, while I was embarrassed by my error and their titters, we were all glad the war was over
A Bad Moment — Alex Ross
It happened when I was in the 8th grade but I still grimace when I remember how awful I felt when I almost knocked over my art teacher. She was a painfully slender, elderly woman who had recently been in an auto accident and was covered all over in bandages and black and blue marks, but she was valiantly doing her duty as the study hall monitor for the day. I, on the other hand, was my healthy, frisky self assigned to the study hall that day when I urgently needed to go to the bathroom. I didn’t notice her when I took off down the long hallway to my destination. And when I returned down the that long hallway, much relieved, I slid and skidded and slammed right into her. In the split second of impact I was afraid I had killed her and, instead of going to college, I would spend the rest of my life in Wethersfield, where the CT state prison was in those days.
Happily, she fell into a chair which somehow was conveniently positioned to catch her fall. Luck.
Somewhat Embarrassed — Esther Wanning
The day before my cousins’s memorial in Northampton I started coughing. I had just started a blood pressure medication which my doctor said came with the side effect of coughing. So I thought, “Here’s my side effect, who wants this?” But then I suddenly started feeling lousy at the reception after the memorial, left, and stumbled back to where I was staying and immediately took a covid test. Positive.
So I may be a super-spreader. Two cousins have already fallen. We’re waiting to hear from the particularly elderly and feeble who I spoke with at the memorial without my mask on (eating going on; I did generally wear my mask when not stuffing cheese in).
I should feel bad about this but actually I don’t. I’m somewhat embarrassed to admit that my circumstances couldn’t be better: I’m staying in my SF neighbors’ Northampton condo (he teachers at Amherst, she at Stanford), and he won’t be back until fall. So I can stay here until cleared for travel. Two cousins are AirBnBing nearby — having changed their plans to go two days ago to New Haven to see his dad, whose health is poor; they are being saintly in bringing me wonderful victuals, so I feel more cared for than I ever have, which is a lovely, unaccustomed feeling.