I Might Not Recognize You

I Might Not Recognize You

Decades ago I was a law clerk to a wonderful New Deal Democrat federal judge named J. Dickson Phillips Jr.. In my clerkship year, Judge Phillips was in his early seventies. There were so MANY amazing things about this man and this year of my life. Here are two of my favorites:

First, he ate lunch with his three clerks EVERY day. We all went down to the lunchroom located in the Durham post office. The table was covered with a plastic red picnicky tablecloth. We ate our simple meals brought from home. We talked about our lives, about politics, and occasionally about cases. When the judge said “Well…,” lunch was over. We went back to our office down the hall and dug in to the appellate matters of the day. Simple. Gentle. Obvious.

Second, Judge Phillips was raised in North Carolina. He was southern to his core. This gave him a genial way about him and a lovely linguistic lilt. When he was in a group of people, sometimes a judicial event during our monthly court sittings, sometimes at a local southern BBQ joint, he shook hands with most people who said hello, and he said “Nice to see you.” Not “Nice to meet you.” “Nice to see you.” I remember noticing how this served him. I imagined then and now that he wasn’t sure if he had met all the people he ran into, and this was a kind way to express the graciousness he expressed in so many ways.

Over the last few years, I have adopted “Nice to see you” when I’m aware enough to think about it. I’m no federal judge. But I seem routinely to run into people with whom I apparently had a five-minute conversation or a three-day experience 15 years ago.

I need to confess something: I often don’t remember these people by face, and I almost never fully recall their names. I rarely remember a specific conversation or something I said that someone else might remember. In some cases, this is a mercy. Hearing my words played back to me in situations like this can be surprising… or embarrassing to me. “I said that?! Oy.”

Please know, my failure of memory is not a sign that I didn’t relish knowing you or spending that time with you. It is just… a failure of memory. I have some gifts, as you do. Memory of people, faces, and conversational details is not one of them for me.

I could make a million excuses for this. I could hazard a guess about some facial recognition brain gap. Anything I would come up with would have some merit, but any of these arguments would emerge from my own shame or defensiveness.

So I just want you to know this about me. I suck at this.

When I meet you this next time, I’ll almost certainly be happy to see you. This is in part because I don’t just forget the warm, fuzzy moments of the past. I forget the cruddy ones too! At least I’m consistent.

So we may be starting over. You may toss me a reminder if you’re feeling generous. MANY of you have done this for me (thank you). And, I will endeavor to be present. That is one of my gifts. And, I will almost surely be honest when I say: “Nice to see you.”

Any thoughts, feelings, or blurts? Share them here.