L.A. LOSING HANDLES ON LANDMARKS.

Byline: JANE ROBISON

HAVE you ever driven by a landmark and drawn a blank on the name?

You rummage through your mental Rolodex, hoping something will jog those little memory chips. It's silly, but you can't let it go.

And then you start obsessing, trying desperately to recall the insipid information. With every ounce of your being, you try to summon the answer.

You exhaust all possibilities, besieging friends, looking in phone books, stopping strangers on the street, calling the city desk of your local newspaper and screaming obscenities until they cough it up.

The name game has reduced you and thousands of people just like you to blubbering fools.

It's crises like these that propel people onto the City Council, do-gooders who want to change history and rewrite the rules.

It gives me great pleasure to announce that the City Council's Committee for the Study of the Ethical Treatment of Former Lawmakers has devised sweeping proposals to rename everything in the city after politicians who have no outstanding charges against them.

It is a great leap forward for humanity.

As one ancient Chinese proverb has it: The beginning of wisdom is to call things by their right names.

That's why Congress erupted recently over renaming Washington National Airport after former President Reagan. Congress is greatly against anything that smacks of wisdom.

Mostly, the idea scared the heebie-jeebies out of Democrats, who opposed it unless the J. Edgar Hoover FBI Building was renamed ``Ma Vie En Rose.''

But really, the Democrats were terrified someone in the Oval Office might want to rename the Washington Monument after himself.

Let's play the name game. Let's see if we can guess who the Democrats are afraid of. Could it be someone who loves fallacy symbols?

Could it be someone who thinks the world should get down on its kneepads before him?

Could it be someone with an altar ego?

Who might that someone be?

Could it be . . . Satan?

Nothing is more detrimental to the health and well-being of a society than improperly naming our most sacred monuments after a politician who later turns out to be Satan.

That's why so many L.A. landmarks have had to be renamed through the years.Remember when the East Valley Multipurpose Center in North Hollywood used to be called the Joel Wachs Center?

Naming public buildings after politicians who are still breathing is something Councilman Wachs wants to end. He believes the truth is buried with the dearly departed.

Even then, it's risky. Larry Lawrence was safely put to rest in Arlington National Cemetery, but his lies had a life of their own.

Still, Councilman Wachs has an excellent point. Do we really need the Nate Holden Coliseum for Football Teams that Like to Pass on Offers from Los Angeles?

And with all due respect to the mayor, may he live long and prosper, the Richard Riordan Dedicated Van Nuys Bus Way isn't nearly as impressive as the Richard Riordan Van Nuys Memorial Civic Center, or Riordan Town, for short.

Elected leaders who have passed on to that great Chamber in the Sky are less likely to vote themselves a statue or memorial.

Which brings me to the stump in Encino.For 1,000 years of solitude, the Lang Oak stood tall. Earthquakes, droughts, fires, development and slime-flux disease - the Lang tree, which I always thought of as darling Lillie, withstood it all.

And then something amazing happened. It rained in Encino. And the mighty mother oak of the Valley tumbled.

There's a lesson here, friends. If you give the Valley a little water, a little nourishment, a little tender loving care from neighbors and well-wishers, we'll drop to our knees like Lillie.

Excuse me, but I'd like to take a moment.

. . .

So now we've got this big stump in Encino just begging for an official commemorative plaque before the yard-sale signs cover it up. It should be named after someone with a powerful reputation, someone like City Attorney James Hahn, who blows every which way, but appears unyielding.

But the tree also befriended squirrels, shielded nuts, quivered when an ill wind blew, not unlike the entire City Council. So maybe it should be called Stump, The City Council.

And then there's the Sepulveda Basin Dam. How mundane. How ordinary. How unworthy of the Valley.

Maybe Office Depot can erect a tent over a portion of it and light it up at night, to offset the downtown Staples Arena and Sports Center.

At least when you've got a monument neatly bathed in neon, it's harder to forget.