I’m not one to believe in mumbo, jumbo stuff like spells, visions or curses but I think I may be changing my tune. I may be cursed. As you gasp, head to your fainting couch and clutch your pearls in disbelief, I think it may be true. I know your first thought is that since I am a fan of Chicago sports teams, of course I’m cursed. There was that Billy Goat curse the Cubs had, so there might be some truth in that. What I am talking about is something that has followed me most of my life and caused me more trouble than good. I recognize faces. Ok, a bit anticlimactic, but let me explain.
I have always been good at seeing a face and remembering it. Stored somewhere deep in my brain, where I have a load of useless information, I keep memories of people’s faces. Why? I have no idea and that leads to a bigger problem, I can’t remember any of their names. No room in my memory for something important like that. High school reunions are torture for me. I see former school mates coming towards me, I recognize the face but have no idea what their name is. I try to remember if they were in class with me, was I on the football team with them or were they the one that stood me up for a date. Naw, that can’t be it. If they stood me up, I’m sure they would be walking the other way…most likely running.
You are probably wondering why I can remember a face? I do caricatures. I have always been pretty good at drawing people’s faces. I grew up wanting to be a political cartoonist and as a result, I drew many drawings of people’s faces. When I was in college, I had classes where I concentrated on people’s faces. The bone structure, hairlines, the cut of a jaw and the different kinds of noses everyone possesses. You could say I’m nosy. (I crack myself up.)
Eventually I went to work for a magazine and one of my many jobs was to do illustrations of celebrities for profile articles. I’ve always dreamed of being a cartoonist and this is how I accomplished it. I was no Bill Mauldin (historic cartoonist from WWII and for the Chicago Sun Times), but I was drawing. When I was a kid I actually sent a letter to Mr. Mauldin telling him I would like to replace him one day at the Sun Times. I got a nice letter back saying “not so quick…” or maybe it was a restraining order.
Since I spent so much time looking at faces as possible illustrations, my brain must have been warped into a living version of Facial Recognition Software.
You may think that my odd ability is kind of cool, but it does have its drawbacks. When I was standing outside a coffee shop in Westlake Village, waiting to meet my future wife for the first time, I noticed an older gentleman standing next to me, holding a bag of groceries. He looked familiar. I pulled out my phone, I started running names, trying to figure it out and came across pictures of an actor I thought he was. As my future wife came walking up, I immediately showed her the picture on my phone, then pointed to the white hair gentleman next to me and my first words to her were, “Do you think that’s James Darren?”
I know most of you are surprised that she didn’t run in the opposite direction screaming but she accommodated me and responded, “Who’s James Darren?”
A legitimate answer considering that she is a few years younger than I am, but in the end, it was James Darren and recognizing him almost cost me meeting the love of my life, (Hope she’s reading this).
It struck again when we went to a concert at the Santa Barbara Bowl as guests of my brother and sister-in-law. While we were moving to our seats, I noticed a bald, stocky man sitting behind us. I poked my wife and asked if she noticed the guy and she said, “What guy.”
I didn’t want to make a scene so I waited until it was time to go get our drinks and I had retrieved a picture of the actor to show them. I excitedly told them the man sitting behind us was Dirk Blocker. They both looked at me as if I had two heads. I had to explain that he was the son of the actor who played Hoss on Bonanza in the early 60s. Again, neither had a clue about who I was talking about. I was about ready to find someone who looked close to my age and tell them my exciting discovery.
Dirk Blocker is an actor on his own, who had roles on such shows as Little House on the Prairie and Brooklyn 99. I know he’s a bit of an obscure celebrity who doesn’t need security to hold back packs of desperate fans. He usually can walk around in anonymity, that is unless he runs into me.
A good example of someone I should never have recognized is when I was sitting in the local Starbucks and noticed a guy in a suit putting some cream in his coffee. He looked familiar and, again, I started scrolling through my phone looking for pictures. I had a feeling he was associated with a reality show and soon discovered who he is. His name is Chris Harrison, and at the time, the host of The Bachelor. What makes this strange is that I have never seen a single episode of The Bachelor. I find the show repulsive. How did I know who this guy was? So now do you believe I’m cursed?
It has gotten to the point that I can be watching a show on TV, see someone who looks familiar and discover he or she is a relative to the actor I thought they were, even when the names are different.
My wife and I had the fortunate experience of seeing Dick Van Dyke in the parking lot of a hotel near Santa Barbara. His car, like ours, was blocked from leaving and we were waiting for valets to clear our way. We were standing outside our car, as was Mr. Van Dyke, when he went into a little song and dance, next to his driver’s side door. He was doing a soft shoe dance while singing to himself. The guy was 93 at the time, amazing. I was about 20 feet from him and thanked him for the impromptu routine. He gave me that bright smile of his and said “The pleasure is all mine.”
He then asked where we were heading and I said back to Westlake Village. He was heading to Malibu and said he’ll see us on the road. Considering the dents and damage on the side of his car, we decided to get out in front of him for our own safety.
Unless it’s someone who plays for a Chicago sports team, I don’t bother these folks unless they break the ice first. Like the rest of us, they are just trying to live a normal life and enjoy some time outside their fortresses.
As for me, what am I going to do with this awesome super power I seem to have? Help police solve crimes, track down long lost relatives, get a job drawing caricatures of people on a boardwalk somewhere, that look nothing like the subject but makes them happy because I made their noses smaller than they really are. You know that’s the truth. There isn’t a human alive with a button nose like the ones in those drawings.
I think if the government finds out about my “mutation,” they will scoop me up and lock me away in some underground bunker to do their bidding. I wonder if they’ll make me wear some kind of spandex outfit and give me a cool superhero name like they do in those X-Men movies. How does the “Recognizer” sound?
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