Brian Williams' Critics Probably Are Not Anglers

My cousin Jeff called me not long after the news broke about Brian Williams' inaccurate recollections of his now-famous helicopter flight. His question: Who is Brian Williams, and why is everyone on his case?

I gave Jeff the facts as I understood them, along with my impression of Mr. Williams, which admittedly was formed primarily through his appearances on The Daily Show With John Stewart. Then I shifted from my opinion of the newsman to my opinion about whether a guy could misremember such a thing.

I speculated about what the fog of a war zone and the effects of fear might do to total recall. Then I veered into an area where I have greater expertise: As a fisherman, I have a unique perspective on the accurate retelling of tales. 

We all know guys who are clearly lying about their fishing escapades. They're about as convincing as brother Neal in A River Runs Through It. ("Ronald Coleman!?") But most of us likely fit with the description John Gierach offers in his book Dances With Trout. "The memory of a fisherman is more like fiction than journalism," he writes. "It doesn’t ignore the facts, but it's not entirely bound by them, either."

There was a time I thought that was just a good one-liner. But I caught myself this last year in an act of what we'll now unfortunately always think of as "misremembering." (Likely also always placed in air quotes.) We were sitting around a campfire -- probably drinking coffee and smoking big cigars -- and retelling tales we've told dozens of times before but that somehow still make us laugh. During one such recollection, I pictured myself as being present for something that on further reflection more than likely was not the case. I started to chime in, and in a surprise flash of insight, realized I'd become part of the story only through its frequent retelling.

Just to make sure I wasn't "misremembering" my misremembering, I went back to something I'd written a little closer to "the incident." And sure enough, I was accurately recalling catching myself in an inaccurate recollection.

That may not be a parallel experience to Mr. Williams' recent incident. And I'm not even sure it relates. But at the very least, it does make me a little less likely to suggest someone's pants are on fire and assume the worst.

I wrapped up the soliloquy Jeff had unknowingly stepped into with what I'm certain were astute insights on how memory perhaps can't really be trusted and a comment about how I've personally remembered things that probably didn't fully line up with reality.

"Like that time you caught a big one," Jeff quipped. He didn't even hesitate. What hurt more than the sting of that comment was the speed with which he beat me to the joke. It wasn't even close. 

Of course, that may or may not be how I tell the tale in the years to come.