Facial Recognition Disorder—it's real—and I have it.

My wife has suspected my affliction for several years, because we could be watching a movie starring some famous actor or actress that everyone in the world knows and, depending on their hair style or costume, I wouldn't recognize them. For a few years, I'm sure she simply thought I was stupid, but has now come to realize I have a legitimate reason for being unable to readily identify people that I should know.

If you can't remember a face but you can pick out a particular black cow at a hundred yards, you might have facial recognition disorder. (Thinkstock/Darcy Maulsby)

Until a couple of years ago, I always thought the diagnosis was merely more psycho-mumbo-jumbo. It was at that point, when I was attending a funeral, I was spoken to by someone I didn't recognize. His voice, however, was familiar and I soon realized I was talking to someone that I see every day of the year and have coffee with every morning. Because it was the first time I had ever seen him without his hat, and in surroundings where I didn't expect to see him, his face did not even ring a bell in my brain. Sorry, Ron.

A few months later, I was eating at a restaurant when an attractive lady came over and started talking to me as if she had known me for a lifetime. I'm sure I looked panicked as my mind raced with thoughts of…Is she an old girlfriend? Was she a student from long ago? Do I owe her money? Finally, and awkwardly, she stated, "You don't know who I am, do you?"

I was so embarrassed to admit that I did not, and I was even more embarrassed when she told me who she was and I realized that I had known both her and her husband for more than 20 years and considered them good friends. But, because we were away from where I normally see her, and the encounter was unexpected, my mind drew a blank. Sorry, Theresa.

Last week, while attending a livestock auction, a young man came over and said, "Hi, Jerry. How've you been?" I tried to fake it but, once again, I didn't have the slightest clue to whom I was talking. Sensing my confusion, he introduced himself and I was once more, red-faced. I have known him and his parents forever, ever since he was a youngster in 4-H with my sons. Sorry, Keith.

When I returned from the sale and told my wife about yet another failure-to-know situation, she commented, "I know you have a problem, but I can't understand how you are unable to recognize a human face, yet with at least a hundred cows that are all black, you can identify and every one from a quarter-mile away."

"Well," I answered, "they call it Facial Recognition Disorder, not Cow Recognition Disorder. I'd be in a heck of a predicament if I couldn't identify my own cows." Then, after noticing Judy had gone to the salon and gotten a haircut, while I was at the auction, I added, "And just who are you?"