I could place the face, but not the name. It’s a condition of aging, according to experts studying gerontology. There is a condition that also affects my fellow retired teachers’ abilities to recognize the faces of former students. It could be called FOUTWN – Fear of Using the Wrong Name in Public. I admit it is hampering my comfort levels with attending community events lately.
Attending the Rio Blanco County Historical Society’s quarterly gathering this past Sunday, as well as the Rio Blanco Masonic Lodge’s annual prime rib dinner and pie auction fundraiser, I found my naming abilities tested. Seeing people I hadn’t seen around town for a long time, I finally held my tongue in the second afternoon event, just in case I misnamed an individual.
There are names for a wide variety of conditions that appear while one ages as well, with the overused FOMO – Fear of Missing Out – becoming more popular. This term is used to describe anxiety that suddenly appears when one becomes unable to go out in the community and find out what is happening. I have no problem with FOMO, yet FOMI – Fear of Misnaming Individuals – has taken over.
Certain that my mind was summoning up a memory of one of my favorite fellow teachers from the 25 years we spent at Meeker Elementary who recently passed, I thought I recognized one of her grandchildren presenting her prizewinning project to the sparsely attended historical society membership meeting. I approached a middle school student immediately and told her I missed her grandmother greatly. I also told her she surely made her grandma proud. Looking completely baffled, she turned to the man and woman seated next to her for help. It was not until another familiar face came into view and FOMI took over. I was sure I knew her last name as her older sister had been in my daughter’s class years ago. I didn’t say that name aloud, though, until I heard her husband say his wife’s name and explain their daughter’s dilemma. No idea who I was, she was hoping one of them might save her. I didn’t allow much time before greeting her mother with the correct first name and being introduced to the mystery dad and daughter by name.
After heading to the front of the room to introduce myself to the correct student, I recognized her face, as she resembled her mother just enough. After talking to her for a few minutes before her presentation, I realized that FOMI was probably going to be with me for the rest of my life. I just hoped I would find a way to make it less embarrassing. I thought my temporary solution of being quiet in the moment when I first met someone had worked. I only discovered this new lack of skill had taken over the next day, and I was comfortable enough to ask the person with the first familiar face in the post office how she had enjoyed the previous evening. She hadn’t been there.
I may not have said anything to the woman who was sitting two tables away, but I had problems a day later. I heard my name and turned to see an old friend. She was puzzled when I blurted out, “How did you enjoy the Mason’s dinner and auction last night?” Her face showed me she had no idea of what I was talking about. “I wasn’t there,” she said. After explaining I thought I noticed her two tables away but luckily had not spoken to her. It was no such luck a few seconds later when I saw my friend’s granddaughter again. I smiled and talked to her as if she was the young woman at the historical society meeting. This time she was smiling and laughing as I approached. When I misnamed her immediately, she said, “This happens all the time. So many people mix us up. I am her older sister.”
By DOLLY VISCARDI