Almost total recall
Memory plays tricks with us all. No one knows this better than NBC News anchordude Brian Williams, whose not-so-total recall of certain facts – namely that the helicopter in which he was riding while covering the Iraq War in 2003 had been shot down – resulted in his being suspended from his position for six months. In actuality, Williams either was on a separate plane that landed an hour after the incident or was in a different helicopter that was following another helicopter that had (almost) been shot down.
Williams blamed “the fog of war” for his faulty memory, but it seems to me that, even in a pea-soup fog, he should still be able to distinguish between two fairly dissimilar events – especially if the aircraft from which he stepped was not in flames and had no holes in it. Whether Williams was embellishing or merely forgetful, I’m inclined to cut him some slack. Why hold Williams to account when the staffs of entire cable news operations have enjoyed thriving careers built on perpetuating the idea that Barack Obama is neither Christian nor American?
But I have to admit that I have a more selfish reason for allowing Williams to play fast and loose with the facts. It paves the way for me to go on a lecture tour that I’m calling “Misremembrances of Things Past: What’s Proust is Prologue.” Here’s something to whet your appetite:
Not long after Hillary Clinton was named Secretary of State, she asked me out to a movie. She said she’d provide the car, but that I had to drive.
“No problem,” I said. “I know how to treat a dame.”
She showed up in a stretch limousine with five very unhappy Secret Service agents crammed into the front seat and “Boom Boom Pow” by the Black Eyed Peas blaring from the CD player.
“Get back here, boys” Hillary said, climbing out of the rear door. “Mama’s ridin’ shotgun!”
I climbed behind the wheel and we started down K Street. I wanted to see “Taken,” starring Liam Neeson; Hillary favored “Paul Blart: Mall Cop.”
“Look,” I said. “I’ll drive – I’ll even open doors for you – but I say we’re seeing Liam kick some serious butt.”
“Finally,” Hillary said. “A man who has no problem wearing the pants.”
Having anticipated seeing “Mall Cop,” Hillary was wearing an off-the-shoulder ball gown and a mink stole. We arrived at the multiplex. There was tittering in the queue as several Washingtonians recognized me. The Secret Service agents went into the theater ahead of us, guns drawn, and staked out seats in the front row. We stopped at the concession stand: I chose Simpsons Fruits and Hillary the Tub O’ Corn with free refills (and she used them – twice). We took our seats.
“Taken,” being somewhat violent, I hoped that Hillary might cuddle. She didn’t. In fact, after Neeson had dispatched Bad Guy No. 9, she stood, whistled and wrapped her stole around my throat.
“Take that, Monica!” she screamed. Then her face flushed red, and she sat demurely for the rest of the film.
There was a good bit of chaos when we left. John Boehner and Rick Santorum had slipped into the theater by saying they were researching gay marriage, and they’d been sitting three rows behind us. Boehner tried to make an issue of how government funds had been wasted – not by providing Secret Service protection, but by paying for Hillary’s food. Santorum threatened a Congressional investigation.
Hillary just laughed.
“Go ahead, investigate,” she said, reaching into her clutch purse. “Maybe I’ll show the committee this Polaroid of you and John holding hands during ‘Coming Attractions.'” I had never seen Republicans run so fast.
“There is no Polaroid,” Hillary said, winking. We shared a hearty laugh.
I drove the limo back to my hotel. Hillary gave me a peck on the cheek.
“Thanks for a terrific night, Slick,” Hillary said as I stepped out.
And that’s the last time I saw the lady I’ll always think of as “Miss Hillary.”
We had made plans to see “Paul Blart” the following week. But Bill had questions about the empty Tub O’ Corn he found pressed between the pages of Hillary’s scrapbook.
At least that’s how I recall it.
Next week: “JFK, MLK and Me.”