"ALWAYS REMEMBER YOUR NAME, SON"

When I saw the picture of a twisted tree, it made me think of a story told to me by a grad. prof I had in English Lit. So it goes back a few years.

It seems that Dr. Schoenhorn had worked in a mental institution in New York when he was an undergrad. Rarely did he get to have much contact with any of the patients. One, though, was memorable because of what he said: "always remember your name, son."

Dr. Schoenhorn thought that good advice, but it several weeks had passed before he found out why the patient kept saying that to him.

The old guy lived alone. He went through a very vile routine in his apartment three times or so per week. He forgot one night to pull his curtains. He and his lewdness were on display for all to see. One neighbor called the police.

When they arrived and asked him his name, he couldn't respond. He simply couldn't remember.

When he was placed in the asylum, he thought it was because of his loss of memory, not for his explicit behavior in full view of others.

I hadn't thought of this story or my lit teacher for years. The picture triggered a deep recessive memory. Maybe a picture is actually worth a thousand memories. Well, fortunately not this one.