When I was eleven years old, my family took a cross-country trip out to the western United States. Along the way, we made a stop at a gas station / grocery store off the beaten path somewhere in Arizona. Out front of the dilapidated store was an old Indian in full Indian regalia sitting in front of a hand painted sign that read: “Best Memory in the World. Never forgets a thing.”
Curious, I walked up to the old chief and asked, “If you never forget anything, what did you eat for breakfast on your eleventh birthday?”
The leathery, old Indian stared at me for the longest time before simply replying, “Eggs”.
By this time my father was calling me back to the car and I left the old Indian chief somewhat skeptical about his self-acclaimed, “World’s Best Memory”.
Thirty years later, I was re-creating my family’s trip out west with my own wife and children. As luck would have it, we stopped at the very same gas station and the old Indian Chief with the same old sign was still sitting out front in his chair. Excited, I told my children that I had seen this very same Indian years ago when I was just a kid.
I said, “Come on, let’s go talk to the old chief.”
So I walked up to the old Indian Chief with kids in tow, raised my hand and said, in my best Indian voice, “How”.
Without blinking an eye, he responded, “Scrambled.”