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My Failures Are What I Remember
What’s the deal? How come I remember my failures with more clarity than I remember my victories. That’s not fair. Am I neurotic?
Example Number One: Marie and I were living in Salt Lake City with our beloved cat Scamper. I was walking home from the University of Utah when I discovered Scamper lying dead in the gutter. She was a pretty calico cat, and she had been run over by a car and pretty much squashed. So I scooped up Scamper’s remains and gave them a small burial by the side of the road, saying a few words over the grave. My wife and I loved that cat.
When I got home, I told my wife Marie what had happened to Scamper. My wife is an emotional sort and cried and cried, and we both slept fitfully that night, thinking of poor Scamper being hit by a car and lying dead and alone in the gutter.
The next morning, we opened the door and there was Scamper mewing on the porch. I had buried someone else’s cat. That was over 50 years ago. It’s lived in my mind ever since.
Example Number Two: I was semi-retired when the local PBS radio station advertised for a jazz DJ. I and a few other hopefuls showed up. After a few tryouts, I got the job. I had an advantage: The manager of the radio station had once been my student in a graduate seminar.
I was going to be in show biz! And it was a payin’ gig. (That’s the way we show biz types talk.). Before I started, I came to the radio station to practice, off air, for a few weeks before my gig started. Man, I was a natural.
Then it came time for me to do my show. The ON AIR light came on and my throat constricted. Actually closed up on me. I could hardly get a word out. What came out sounded like “Ack, ack, ack.” I was supposed to be a smooth-talking jazz DJ and all I could say was “Ack.” I was terribly embarrassed. That was fifty years ago.
I finally got some words out and cued up my first song. I remember what it was: Ella Fitzgerald’s “Take the ‘A’ Train.”
I went on to become a reasonably competent late-night DJ. I tried to project a sort of cool jazz persona, with a low and confident vibe in my voice. I was nothing to write home about (the guy I replaced was much better), but I did all right after that dreadful beginning. I even had some fans, though one guy called in and told me that I was trying too hard to be cool. He was right. I was never any good at being cool.
Example Number Three: In 1959 I was in Germany, away from home for the first time. One day, feeling a little homesick, I came up with the idea of preparing an audio tape of my voice, telling my mom and dad what was going on with my Army life. I even taped a few of my Army buddies speaking into the tape. So I sent it off. Later, my sister said that she, my parents, and my aunt and uncle had gathered around the tape machine to listen to my thoughts. All went well. Until my voice ended. I had forgotten to turn off the tape while I was recording
I don’t know if you know it, but Army guys, back in the day, lapsed into a kind of Army speak after they’ve been in for awhile. Army speak is language that uses the “fork” word as an adjective in most utterances. Thus, “That forken sergeant forks up every time he forken talks.” Or “Please pass the forken sausage.” Or “I think I’ll go for a forken walk.”
As my folks had finished my part in the tape, a string of “awful language” (my sister’s words) blistered the living room with ”forks” and worse. After we had thought the tape had ended, me and my Army buddies, sitting around the barracks, lapsed into Army speak. My sister rushed to turn off the tape, but she didn’t know the controls well, so the obscenities continued for a bit. It probably didn’t bother my dad. He worked as a roughneck on oil rigs. But I know that my aunt and my mom (who worked hard to elevate my dad and me from our Oklahoma roots) must have been appalled. My mom never mentioned the episode. I’m glad she didn’t. I cringe when I think of that group suddenly listening to Army speak, my voice included. Her son, my mom must have thought, had devolved to the family’s crude Okie ways.
So I’ve got all these little failures buzzing around in my mind. I don’t particularly care for them being there, but there they are. The first one isn’t so bad. I’ve told the cat story a number of times for the laughs. The second two I’ve largely kept secret until now. You guys exist in the ether and can’t show your condescension with a facial expression. I don’t think emojis with their tongues stuck out really do the job.
Hemingway once wrote that courage is grace under pressure. I’m game for almost anything, but I sometimes leave my grace behind.
I’ve had some victories in my life, but it’s the failures that I remember most vividly. What about you? Have you forgotten your failures? You have had embarrassing failures, haven’t you?
Published in General
Yes, you win! Easily. That was extremely dorky.
Arahant, a “tortie”? Man, that makes you sound like a crazy cat man. Perhaps even a cat dork.
They are the most beautiful of cats. Of course, they do have tortitude, but it’s worth it.
I think we all remember failures, at least the epic ones , with more clarity than our victories. It may be part of the brain’s function of keeping us safe.
After all there was a time when epic failure meant death not embarrassment.
Now with the “tortitude”! Arahant, you probably have one of those cat gyms in your living room. Cat dork!
I’ve seen those but didn’t know about tortitude until you provoked me to look it up just now. Just so long as they don’t fail at varmint-catching (to bring this back to the OP).
All that you need to know, Kent, is that Tortoiseshells are the redheads of the cat world.
I was gonna say, he can only come up with 3?
Arahant, coincidentally, I was a redhead (or “ginger,” as the redhead detractors like to say) for most of my life.
Oh, dear. Just one? Okay. You know those arm-things that go up and down to restrict access to a parking lot? I was walking along, apparently deep in thought (there were no cell phones then to give me an excuse), and I hit one of them at my usual brisk cruising speed and wrapped myself around it. I can only imagine how hilarious that must have looked.
More of a Britishism. Like “braces” it is making some inroads into ‘Murica, even though we have perfectly good words in “redheaded devils” and “suspenders.”
Not bad. I can see it. Upper body bent over the arm. Then a small struggle to extricate yourself. Then a look to see if anyone saw how silly you looked. 🙃That little upside down emoji popped up when I typed the word “silly.” I guess it represents your head down posture. Emojis know.
My tortie looked like a dirty dishrag as a kitten, and I almost didn’t take her. She turned out to be so lovely with striking shades of red mixed in with the other colors.
Miss that kitty. 🐱
I shared your first incident and guess what? I lady I know had almost exactly the same experience, except the cat’s name was taffy.
Really? I was sure I was the only one. Darn!
If it wasn’t a calico cat, though, it wasn’t quite the same experience.