The Wedding - Part II: I didn't tell anyone except what's his name

From Marc Sotkin, Wednesday, December 16, 2009

As Boomers, we’ve all had those moments when we can’t quite get the memory to kick in. It’s like that guy said…you know the one…from the movies…what’s his name…English guy…he married what’s her name…a couple of times…the actress…from Cleopatra. Damn. I’ll get it.

Look, if I ever greet you with either “Hello, Dear,” or “What’s up, Pally,” or my old standard, “Hey, how ya’ doin’?” - I apologize. It means my memory is experiencing technical difficulties. I’ve lost your name. They could hook me up to an IV of straight Ginko Biloba and I wouldn’t remember it. It happens to all of us. Well, there may be good news. No, not a cure, but an unintended consequence.

I think as a generation, as time goes on, we may tell less lies to each other because we won’t be able to remember the details of the little stories we make up. Example: As I told you last time my friends Joey and Angela DeMateo are planning a wedding for their daughter Rosalie and there’s a disagreement about how big the wedding should be. Angela wants a huge wedding at the Plaza Hotel in New York. It’s sixty thousand dollars, minimum.

Like any good father, Joey secretly offered Rosalie ten thousand dollars to elope. He made me swear I wouldn’t tell anybody about it. I told him I didn’t want to get in the middle, but he reminded me of the time that I told him that I was dying my hair and made him promise not to tell anyone. It’s true. I dyed my hair for a while. But it seemed like people were always asking me if I dyed my hair. So what was the point?

Anyway, then Angela tells me that she’s secretly already booked a Joey Dee and the Starlighters tribute band for the wedding, and she wants me to swear not to tell anyone, especially her husband Joey. I told her I didn’t want to get in the middle. She reminded me of the time I told her that I went to the Super Bowl with a friend on my anniversary but told my wife I had to go on a business trip. That’s also true. A buddy had a ticket. It’s probably the only Super Bowl I’ll ever go to. I’m probably going to have fifty some odd anniversaries. I went. And I did give my wife jewelry. Good stuff. Not paste. That’s the marriage equivalent of confessing and saying like a hundred Hail Mary’s so you don’t have to tell her if you see her. Okay? Promise?

Anyway, here’s the thing: I never told Joey about the hair color. I told Angela because I wanted her advice on the best way to do it. And I made her promise not to tell anybody. And I never told Angela about the Super Bowl. I’m not crazy. That’s not the kind of thing you tell a woman. I told Joey. Obviously, they told each other what I was up to. They just don’t remember.

So my advice: as you get older, always tell the truth. Or take very good notes so you can keep your story straight… RICHARD BURTON! It was Richard Burton, the actor. He said, “How strange are the tricks of memory, which, often hazy as a dream about the most important events of a man's life, religiously preserve the merest trifles.” Do you think he talked that way around the house? That had to be pretty obnoxious. Anyway, tell the truth, people. That’s one thing you shouldn’t forget. That’s what I think. What do you think?

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