Certian people occupy certian places in my memory. Friends, relatives, schoolteachers. Each have a particular place in my psyche. While I don't claim to have a perfect memory, I can remember some people and places better than some.
Missionary companions have an interesting place in my fabric of a memory as well. Mostly fond memories, some strange, others weird and even some not so fun.
But all in all, I tend to have a good recall of that 2 years I spent knocking on doors in Sweden. And of the people I met and taught.
And, of course, the people I did it with. Missionary companions are a strange lot. You live with a new roomate/companion 24/7 and learn all there is, just about, to that person.
What caused my memory to throw a monkey wrench into the works today was when I was contacting a few friends. I am so used to using their last names while talking to them. Cano. Anderson. Hawkes. Mann. Ashworth. Shepherd. They will always be known as this, or by their once title, Elder --- Äldste or Syster.
But using their first names?
Albert Cano. No way. Brian Anderson. Nope. Matt Hawkes. Can't do it. Kelly Mann. No thanks. Julia Ashworth? Yowch! Ryan Shepherd? No way, Jose.
Maybe in the next life we'll spend the eternities getting used to each other's first names. But as for me, when talk to them it's hard asking for "Al Cano, please" on the phone. Am I alone in this? I hope not. Maybe it's just a side effect of being on a mission and adhering to a mission rule to only address your companion thusly. Maybe it's normal. I sure hope it isn't just a symptom of me not getting to know my companions as well as I should.
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