The Number of Things

It all started back in the days of those old dial telephones. Some of
you may remember those dials that you stuck your finger into the numbered hole,
turned it till it stopped, then released it. As it returns to the stop point it
makes a tick, tick, tick sound that corresponds with the number that it represented.
Since I was then, (and always have been) fascinated with
mechanical/electrical devices, I soon realized that by counting the
“ticks”, I could know the number that my mother or father had just
dialed. I learned to count very fast – in fact, I could replay the
sound in my head and count again, just to confirm my first impression.
I don’t know exactly when this “counting things” grew into an
obsession, but it did. I have to admit it. At some point it became entangled
with superstition – but that’s another story. Even tonight as I was standing
out on the porch with my daughter just listening to the night sounds when
we heard what sounded like rapid, semi-automatic gunfire. That isn’t
uncommon around here – sometimes we hear fully automatic fusillades
which are more difficult to count, and I suspect that the local police
force is severely outgunned around here.
We both simultaneously said, “Nine”. I have displayed my
talent to her so many times that she has now picked it up. I hope it doesn’t
become a nuisance to her later in life as it has for me. I have though that
perhaps this may come in handy one day if there is a murder case and
the cops want to know exactly how many shots were fired. I could by God
tell them!
I count anything that seems to have a repetitive sound,
but for several years I have been counting everything - from swallows
of
water from a fountain to the number of steps in a staircase. I count
geese when they fly overhead in their “V” formation. I count cars that
I meet while driving. I count the beeps when they do that annoying
“This has been a test of the Emergency Broadcast System”. I count
people in elevators, then re-count for females versus males. I count
the seconds between a lightning flash and the resulting thunder.
Actually this one is pretty handy for determining the distance of the
storm (five seconds equals one mile). I have tried to stop – really I
have – but it seems the more I try to NOT count things, the more aware
of it I become.
Simultaneously chanting random numbers seems to help a bit, but
that interferes with that superstition thing....

Brew,
seems you have some special talent.
When you read a story and they say, "gunfire was heard", do you automatically wonder how many shots were fired?

I find that I do a lot of counting and it drives me nuts. When I walk up a hill, I find myself counting the steps I take. It is done without conscious thought. That in no way compares to your counting in other ways.

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When you read a story and they say, "gunfire was heard", do you automatically wonder how many shots were fired?

Yep. Was it a pitched battle, or a single shot which could be simply a
hunter. Was it a small caliber or a cannon? Things like that.

I count steps too, but that goes back to my days of surveying where it
was important to know approximate distance between two points.

My seventeen-year-old autistic grandson remembers everything he reads, and that includes a couple of books a day. We went to a used bookstore one day and he picked out over 30 books, which my son said he would have read by the end of the month. He hasn't been in school since first grade as he couldn't handle the noise and people, but has a large vocabulary.

So after the visit to the bookstore where we bought the 30 plus books, I suggested he count them. He replied, "I don't count."

Indeed, according to his parents, he doesn't.

People are so interesting.

Good post, Phil.

Carol

Thanks, Carol! Did your grandson learn to read easily? I suppose his
parents taught him since he left school so early. Does he also have a
photographic memory, like he can recall the words on a page, left page
- right page, Etc.?

I find this very interesting, since I have this strange type of
photographic memory. I remember which column or which side of a book
(left/right) that I read a certain thing - but alas, I don't remember
whick book! LOL

He is rather amazing. No one can figure out when he goes back to a book he has been reading how he finds the page he is on. They taught him basic reading skills, but he picked up a lot of vocabulary on his own. They will ask him what words mean, for example "abundant," and he can tell them, and they never taught him that word.

Usually he goes off by himself at family gatherings and reads or watches TV, but this year on Thanksgiving he stayed with the family and talked to most there. He talked about the books he read, the movies he's gone to and the TV shows he likes, over and over to everyone. But at one point he asked me, "How are these people related to my father?" After I told him, he went back to the books and movies.

I just read a fantastic book titled "I Was Born on a Blue Day," written by an autistic savant who once held a fund raiser for the epilepsy society where he took pi out to 22000 places. It took him five hours and he had all the numbers correct.

Carol

Phil,

I think you would like that book. I got it to learn more about how my grandson, Mitchell, thinks, and thought it would be mostly information, but after the first page I was hooked and read the book in only a few days. the author, Daniel, talks about numbers and one of the puzzles he presented was:

If there are 27 people in a room, and each person shakes hands with all the others, how many handshakes will there be?

We spent a lot of time on that, and Daniel figured it out completely differently, (and correctly).

My granddaughter was so fascinated with the man who wrote the book, that looked up the author on the internet and spent a great deal of time watching all the videos about him.

Carol

I don't know about autism, but I have always counted. However, not how many clicks, more like how many bites, and always by threes. When I was very young, I loved m&ms. I always ate them by threes. If there were two left at the end of the pack, I threw them out.

In fact, even the colors had to be divisible by three!

Now, much older, I have decided that I am OCD on the subject of three. I have tried counting beyond three instead of just going to three over and over. But I see that as OCD as well. So I try not to count at all. Fat chance!

Now, when I catch myself counting, I am beyond the 100 mark, and I am not counting anything in particular! Do you supplse it is because I was instructed to chew my food 100 times? Maybe I couldn't count that high, and just did what I knew until it felt like 100 times!

Carol, I looked Born on a Blue Day up on Amazon. $2.00 for a used one!
Daniel Tammet was the author, and I have seen him on TV - David
Letterman, I think it was. He is amazing!

Zada, your counting (and suspected OCD) sounds a lot like me. My
special numbers are three and seven - and multiples of those. I also
found that the more you try to NOT count, the more obsessive it becomes

Zada and Phil,

You would both like that book. Daniel feels numbers, sees them as colors, and loves prime numbers.

Carol

I just thought of something funny... while Daniel sees numbers as
colors, I see colors as numbers! But that was a learned thing. In
electronics I had to learn the resistor color code, which are color
bands. Black, Brown, Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, Violet, Grey,
White - which represents the numbers 0-9. We techs played geeky games
like, "That sure is a six sky!" or "Look at that two dress!".

Let me see if I can remember the color code from my days in Air Force electronics.

Bad Boys Rape Our Young Girls But Violet Gives Willingly.

That sound about right Brew? Black, Brown, Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, Violet, Grey, White.

I first had to learn them to remember the values of resistors, and this was how the instructor had us do it.

The only counting I do is

One, Two, buckle my shoe
Three, Four, close the door.
Five, Six, pick up sticks.
Seven, Eight, lay them straight.
Nine, Ten, do it again.

I do have a thing about threes, however. If I wake up in the middle of the night, it is always on a 3 number. Such as 2:23, or 4:13 etc. I never do anything or use anything or live anywhere or anything else if the number ends in a three. Had a good deal on a house once but passed on it because the number was 1713 Oak Street. Strangely, though, while I'm not superstitious of Friday the 13th, I won't eat or drink three of anything. Two or four, always. I will never get in the bed on a time that ends in three, I won't leave the television tuned to a station when I turn it off that is a three, or adds up to a three. For instance, channel 39 equals 3 plus 9 equals 12 equals 1 plus 2 equals 3. So does channel 48, 84, 93, 57, 21, 12 etc, you get the picture. I think it goes back to my childhood, but for the life of me I don't remember what it was that started it.

People are quite strange, aren't we? And that goes double for those of us who are borderline insane.

Personally, I often think I have gone across that border a time or two! We must be opposites, Don; I look for the threes instead of avoiding them! I was disapointed that my house numbers did not add up to 3! (They assigned them after I bought the land.)

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Bad Boys Rape Our Young Girls But Violet Gives Willingly.

That sound about right Brew? Black, Brown, Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, Violet, Grey, White.

You got it, Don! Well, except for that first word which is now considered politically incorrect since I learned the mnenomic.

After a while I began to "see" the numbers when I looked at the color and no longer needed it.

Now that Pluto has been demoted from planet status, the mnenomic for
the planets will have to be re-written. Shame. My Very Elegant Mother
Just Served Us Nine Pizzas.

I have been astonishingly oblivious to the importance of numbers.

Sorry, I am but a lowly accountant.

I lke big numbers on my paychecks and small on my blils
Other than that all is well with my soul.

I like low cholesterol numbers also--am happy when the scale weighs me low. Come to thnk of it I like my blood pressure down, but not too far down.

Thanks, Brew, You gave me a new obsession.

Brew,

Do you find yourself counting down seconds at red lights? I do. It helps me deal with my impatience.

Ann

Ann,

It is so wonderful to have you here again.

Feels like old times, Alice. I'm having a blast.

Ann