In a perfect world, we would have the time to know everyone, and with that clear knowledge there would never be a misunderstanding. But if you believe in the Dunbar theory, there is a limited number of people that you can know. If you accept that, or even just capitulate that there are only twenty-four hours in a day, it will dawn on you that our time here is limited. Not in an existential way, but in the sense that “I’m stuck in an airport terminal waiting for a layover, and there is an eight-hour delay every day that’s called work.”

The first instinct is to ignore people, and that is what I did from primary school through high school. I remember standing in my school library, and the clerk was a grandma who volunteered, and when I walked up, she was wearing a knit sweater and a lot of necklaces. that she made herself, and I asked, “Shona, how are your grandkids?” 

Then she delighted me by saying that they were doing well. Then she asked me how a dear friend of mine was, and I said, “Her knee is doing better, but she is not going to be able to return to track and field this season.”

She told me to say hi to my injured friend. Then I walked away from her and considered a few things. I have only talked to Shona a handful of times, but with that, I felt like we had a passing rapport. Now let me be clear: I had no interest in going over to her house and eating dinner with her family or going to bingo night with her. I was satisfied with a cursory view of a person’s life who I was fond of. She was a delightful old lady, and I wish her the best wherever she may be. 

I went home and thought of this shallow thing, and after some internet sleuthing, I stumbled upon Bill Clinton. He is infamous for a multitude of things, but not for his eidetic memory, which is as close to photographic as you can get. The parlor trick he does is that when his constituents call, he recites a phrase or particular detail the constituents have once said. His notorious memory can be almost frightening because he can recall almost any staffer besides Monica Lewinsky. 

The key to this trick is that once you get used to it, it will be really easy to recite information; however, you don’t want to give out too much personal information about the person you are speaking to. It will come off as creepy, or that you really do care about their lives. This is the balancing act where people will start to get honestly hurt over you not coming over for dinner. The attentiveness needs to be light, because being attentive to others’ wishes or worries is a sibling to intimacy. 

Where things go wrong, I worked many years as a hospice. taking care of a wealthy family’s grown daughter with Down syndrome. This is a twelve-hour, five-day-a-week job with a lot of overtime met with an equal amount of boredom. At night, they had a different hospice, and I had the day. The patient needed help going to the bathroom, showering, and any appointments. You also have to make every meal and schedule, the cleaner, and any miscellaneous things. With this responsibility comes the go-ahead if you want a red bull or any meal when you go to the grocery store to get it because you have the patient debit card. The mother would give a pretty liberal go-ahead. I was uncomfortable with this, but I tried to take care of everyone in the house. 

Here comes the conflict. I’m a Russophile, and the maid is a married Russian woman. I want to speak Russian. I passively know a few words and phrases I picked up in class when I studied them. When she comes by, her hair is frayed, she has dark circles around her eyes, and her hands are callus. Then one day she complained to me about being hungry, and I thought to myself for a bit, then I made her something. After a while, I figured out she liked fresh fruit and salads when it’s hot, and when it’s cold, her favorite soup is tomato bisque with a grilled cheese on the side, lightly toasted. I didn’t understand how inappropriate this was.

This habit I have had since I was fifteen I thought very little of, and at this point in the story, I have done it for six years. I see this Russian woman only two days out of the week for an hour; this has been going on for six months. I think I’m being courteous at most; one day her mask of sanity drops. She looked at me with a deadpan stare and told me about the love of her life. While I listened, he sounded like a great person—charitable, caring, and always attentive. She mentions he knows everything about her, is doting, and is just a little bit fruity, and that makes her giggle. 

While she has this unhinged stare, she smirks and says under her breath, “Whenever I’m down, I just think of him, especially if I’m lying in bed or when I’m sore.”

Then something starts to dawn on me: this isn’t her husband, but me. I’m the most caring person in her life. Then it occurred that this parlor trick is two parts memory and one part the game of minesweeper. The latter I have not been playing, and I just hit a mine. 

Back to Bill Clinton’s constituents: you are trying to remember people who are great acquaintances; there is no better friend than a reliable acquaintance. When you become an adult, you don’t want slumber parties. The best type of character is a person that you haven’t talked to in a few months. When you do and invite them over, they won’t try something unhinged. I thought this was a common thing. As I grew older, I slowly learned that this type of really good acquaintance is a rarity. I thought the maid was a real stand-up person. However, I accidentally discovered Monica Lewinsky. I didn’t need to learn the same lesson that Bill Clinton learned; I have a good memory.