Muncherasi by proxy

I sat on the edge of the bed and read for the 500th time the words my wife scribbled nearly a decade ago: Bunch Muncherasi MD. We were at a bar one drunken night in our early 20s, and in the way that young people do, we thought we’d figured out something important. I didn’t want to forget it, so Amy kindly wrote it down. Bunch Muncherasi MD. It was goofy, some kind of shorthand, a larky reminder of whatever we’d discovered.

I put the scrap of paper into my back pocket that night and kept it there, or migrated it to other back pockets, for years, with my credit cards and old receipts. As I sat on the bed that afternoon, a wave of memories came back — life as a 20-something, without a baby, jotting things exuberantly in bars. There was only one thing I couldn’t remember: Who or what the hell was Bunch Muncherasi MD? —Chris Colin, NYT