Yo, Elvis!

Do you have difficulty remembering people’s names?

I do.

I like asking people’s names especially those who provide sincere service (tellers, security guards, receptionists, etc.), hoping I’d remember them the next time we meet. But the in-betweens stretch to months so when I see them again, I remember their smiles but not their names.

“What’s your name?” I asked the young audiologist whom I visit every six months for my hearing problem. He’s solicitous and patient, explaining in great detail how my pair of  hearing aids—hearing grace I call them—are doing. 

“Elvis,” he replied.

“Yo!” I shrieked.

(The only other Elvis I know had gone to glory long ago, but who, his fans insist, is still alive. He was my husband’s favorite singer. In fact, Tony has an Elvis room where he keeps Elvis thingies, collected through the years.  During his last trip to the US, this Elvis fan flew to Graceland and brought home more memorabilia—below.)

Last week, six months later, I had to visit the Hearing Clinic again and what do you know? I remembered my audiologist’s name.

“Yo, Elvis!”

“Your name, Ma’am?” he knitted his brow. Age has nothing to do with forgetfulness.

While he was fiddling with my hearing aid’s computer chip, I asked, “Do you like Elvis Presley?”

“He was my dad’s favorite singer, Ma’am,” he said.

“He named you after him; you must be a good singer, too.”

“Modesty aside, I am, Ma’am,” he said seriously.

“Can you sing me a few lines?” I joked.

Immediately, he belted, “Wise men say, only fools rush in, but I can’t help falling in love with you . . .”

“Yo! Elvis,” I exclaimed, clapping my hands vigorously.

His assistant rushed into the room, wondering what was happening.

Well, Elvis happened.