The Mystery of the Talents

My Papaw Clark was one of those rare people who never forgets a face—or the name that goes with it. He greeted people, even people he had met only once, by name, and remembered details of when they had met. 

I was always impressed with this talent; it seemed magical to me. 

Recently, I was talking to my aunt about Papaw’s World War II memoir (we’re preparing to reissue it, in a spiff new edition). She was telling me, “You know, he kept a note card on everyone he met.” 

I had not known this. I did know that my Papaw Clark always carried 3×5 note cards and a pen in his breast pocket. The cards were his grocery list and his to-do list, but I did not realize they were also his interpersonal cheat sheets.

“He would take out a blank note card when he met someone, and write down their name and the details about their meeting,” my aunt continued. “If he knew he was going to be someplace where he would see that person again, he would review his note card about them before he went.” 

And just like that, something that had always seemed magical to me was demystified. Suddenly it became not a mysterious talent that my grandfather had that I lacked, but rather, a skill, a discipline, a practice—something that my grandfather did as a habit, because he cared about people, and he worked hard at getting to know them, and remembering them.

A lot of “talents” are that way—they are actually skills, and habits. George Washington worked hard at “elocution” and other skills that would make him a gentleman. Athletes and musicians who play very well practice hard at their sports.  

The talents we admire, that look so mysterious and wonderful when all we see is the end result, are in many cases things that others work at. We may mistake them for something innate. But what if these were things we, too, could do if we were willing to put in the effort? 

I do believe my grandfather had a talent for remembering people—a natural inclination that I lack-— but now I know that it was also something he worked at. And that makes it something I could work at, too. 

What seemingly innate talent do you envy in others, that you wish you had, but do not believe yourself capable of? Perhaps it’s actually a discipline and work ethic that we lack. That mom who always seems put-together? How early do you suppose she gets up, to give herself time to look good and stay organized? That neighbor whose yard is always flawless? How many hours each week does he spend tending to it, and how closely has he studied the subject of lawn care, to know exactly how much fertilizer and when to apply it, and how to mow it properly? How closely does he follow the rainfall, so that he knows when it needs water, and how much to give it? 

I do care about people, but I’m bad at the habits that show that I care. I intend, going forward, to put some effort, some discipline, some work into developing the skills I need in order to be better at it. I doubt that I will ever be as good at it as my Papaw Clark was—he developed the habit far earlier than I did, and practiced it much longer than I will be able to—but I need to start somewhere.

Whatever the habit is, there’s no better day to start than today.