The true art of memory is the art of attention.
—Samuel Johnson
please read the following paragraph very carefully:—
You are driving a bus which contains fifty people. The bus
makes one stop and ten people get off, while three people get on.
At the next stop seven people get off the bus, and two people
get on. There are two more stops at which four passengers get
off each time, and three fares get on at one stop, and none at
the other. At this point, the bus has to stop because of mechanical
trouble. Some of the passengers are in a hurry and decide to
walk. So eight people get off the bus. When the mechanical
trouble is taken care of, the bus goes to the last stop, and the
rest of the people get off.
Now, without re-reading the paragraph, see if you can
answer two questions about it. I feel pretty sure that if I
asked you to tell me how many people were left on the
bus, or how many got off the bus at the last stop, you would
have the answer immediately. However, one of the questions
I want you to answer is:— How many stops did the
bus make altogether?
I may be wrong, but I don't think that many of you can
answer this question. The reason, of course, is that you all
felt sure that the question I would ask, after you read the paragraph, would pertain to the amount of people. Therefore
you gave your attention to the amount of people that
were getting on and off the bus. You were interested in the
amount of people. In short, you wanted to know or remember
how many people would be left on the bus. Since you
didn't think that the number of stops was important, you
didn't pay much attention to that. You weren't interested
in the amount of stops, therefore they didn't register in
your mind at all, and you didn't remember them.
However, if some of you did feel that the amount of stops
was important or if you felt you would be questioned on
that particular point; then you surely did know the answer
to my first question, or remembered the number of stops
that the bus made. Again, simply because you were interested
or wanted to know that particular information.
If you feel elated because you did answer my question;
don't. Because I doubt if you will answer the second one.
good friend of mine who is employed at Grossingers, a large
resort hotel, at which I perform quite often, uses this in his
afternoon quizzes. I know that a very small percentage of
the guests ever answer this correctly, if at all. Without looking
at that first paragraph again, you're to answer this question:—
What is the bus driver's name?
As I said, I doubt if any of you can answer this correctly,
if at all. Actually, this is more of a trick question on observation
than it is a memory test. I use it here only to impress
upon you the importance of interest in memory. Had I told
you before you read that "bus" story, that I would ask for
the driver's name—you would have been interested in the
name. You'd have wanted to notice and remember it.
Even so, it is sort of a tricky question, and you may not
have been observant enough to be able to answer it. This,
incidentally, is a principle that many professional magicians
have been using for years. It is called "misdirection." It simply means that the important move in a trick, the move
that actually is the "modus operandi," is kept in the background.
Or, it is covered with another move, one that has
nothing to do with the trick, but which you are led to believe
is the important move. This is the move that you will
observe and remember. The one that actually worked the
trick is not even noticed, and that is why you are completely
fooled. Most people, when describing a magician's trick,
will make the effect so impossible that if the magician himself
were listening, he wouldn't believe it. Only because
they leave out the all important move in their description.
Aside from "box" tricks, or tricks that mechanically work
themselves, magicians would have a tough time fooling
their audiences if it weren't for the art of "misdirection."
Well, I "misdirected" you by making you think I was
going to ask about one thing, and then I asked about something
you didn't even notice. I guess I've kept you in suspense
long enough. You probably are anxious to know the
answer to my second question. Well, actually the first word
of the paragraph tells you who the driver is. The first word
of the paragraph is, "you." The correct answer to the question,
"What is the bus driver's name?", is your own name!
You were driving the bus. Try this one on your friends and
see how few of them can answer it correctly.
As I've said, this is more of an observation test than a
memory test. But memory and observation do go hand in
hand. You cannot possibly remember anything you do not
observe; and it is extremely difficult to observe or remember
anything that you do not want to remember, or that you
are not interested in remembering.
This, of course, leads to an obvious memory rule. If you
want to improve your memory immediately, force yourself
to want to remember. Force yourself to be interested
enough to observe anything you want to remember or retain. I say, "force yourself," because at first a little effort
may be necessary; however in an amazingly short time,
you'll find that there is no effort at all required to make
yourself want to remember anything. The fact that you
are reading this book, is your first forward step. You
wouldn't be reading it if you didn't want to remember,
or if you weren't interested in improving your memory.
"Without motivation there can hardly be remembrance."
Aside from intending to remember, confidence that you
will remember is also helpful. If you tackle any memory
problem with the thought, "I will remember"; more often
than not, you will. Think of your memory as a sieve. Each
time that you feel or say, "I have an awful memory," or,
"I'll never be able to remember this," you put another hole
in the sieve. If, on the other hand, you say, "I have a wonderful
memory," or, "I'll remember this easily," you're
plugging up one of those holes.
