I can remember the starting lineup of the 1955 Brooklyn Dodgers, and their batting averages, although that rarely comes up in conversation. What I can’t remember are my passwords.

There is a sheet of paper taped to the front of my desk at home that is a list of all my passwords, the ones for the e-mail accounts, the airlines, the bookstores, the banks, the loans, the pizza place, the chiropodist, plus the special password for the passwords.

Previously, for all of the accounts, I had had the same password, a word I knew well and would be unlikely to forget — my first name. It was easy to remember, compact, a heady mixture of vowels and consonants, had both a capital letter and lower-case letters — apparently confusing to potential identity thieves, who always look for names with just small letters. My reasoning was that I thought if I were unable to remember this password, the chances were unlikely that I really would benefit from access to my bank account.

(And if I were unable to remember it, there would always be those prompts — What was your mother’s maiden name? Who was your first cat? What was your first cat’s maiden name? — that would help me out of the quandary.)

But then everyone — what I mean by that is my wife — kept telling me that this wasn’t safe. Your passwords shouldn’t be simple. They shouldn’t be something anyone could figure out. They shouldn’t be Neil.

And if all your passwords were the same, if someone figured out one, then they could figure out them all and immediately have access to the maiden name of your cat.

So I began changing all my passwords, and following directions from high-level password authorities (and yes, you need a special user name and password to contact them), I made my new passwords incredibly complex — but at the same time, I thought, easy to remember.

So, for instance, the password to my 401(k) account is the first letter of every word in the Springsteen song “10th Avenue Freezeout,” but in Serbo-Croat.

Or maybe it’s “Glory Days.” And it’s possible it’s not Serbo-Croat at all but Latvian. And you may have to spell out 10th. Then again, it may have been “The Sound of Music.” Hey, let’s see some hacker figure that one out, unless, of course, it’s a Serbo-Croat Springsteen fanatic hacker who’s fond of Rodgers and Hammerstein.

The problem was, I had so many new and unhackable passwords I couldn’t remember which one was for my e-Bay account and what got me into the chiropodist’s office. So I decided to write them all down. Unfortunately, I can’t read my handwriting.