Unknown White Male

Last night I saw this movie called, "Unknown White Male." It was a documentary about a handsome, British man named Doug who woke up one morning on the Subway line in NYC without knowing who he was or how he got there. He had no recollection about anything in his life, not his name or a single memory. He went to the police, they sent him to a psychiatric hospital, and the hospital told him that unless someone came to claim him, he would have to stay in the hospital. In his backpack was a note that had a woman's name on it, but she didn't know who he was. Fortunately, she told her daughter about this, encouraging her daughter to call the hospital to see if she recognized who this man was. The daughter did recognize his voice immediately -- she was a former girlfriend and close friend. She went to the hospital to claim him.

The documentary, filmed by another close friend, Rupert Murray, took a journey exploring how Doug rebuilt his life and identity after such a rare occurrence, focusing on the re-establishing of relationships that do not exist for the amnesiac individual.

It was certainly a fascinating film, to say the least, allowing me time to reflect upon who I am. How much of me, what I know as Michael Fowlin, is shaped by the events of my past; how much of ME is hard wired?

Doug certainly suffered greatly, at first, trying to ascertain aspects of himself, but in the end he appeared almost comfortable at being given a clean slate, the ability to re-create one's self, without playing the role of being who people know, without wearing that subconscious mask. More fascinating was the fact that he got to a place where, in many ways, he cared little about ever regaining access to the old self.

It was his close friends who had the most difficulty at adjusting to Doug's amnesia, having to establish a different connection with Doug, getting to know the "rebooted" Doug, and ultimately worrying if this "new" Doug would even like them.

I also thought about my own connections and how many of them are built upon events and happenings, shared experiences, if you will. I wondered if I would have a better chance at re-establishing a relationship, if it were not built on the "Remember when we did this . . ." principle, but rather, if the relationship were forged on more existential concerns. I think about this because questions such as: Who are we? Why are we here? What are we? -- tend to be questions that change throughout time. We re-learn each other as time moves on. Shared memories of events tend to be fixed and only slightly altered.

I suppose what I am really asking is if it is possible to maintain our core selves in spite of amnesia? The quandary: how many of us really know our true selves, deep behind all the masks?