The great Alan Ludden always knew the “Password.”

It was one of the great television game shows of the 1960s. Whenever my brother and sister and I were battling colds — fierce or fake — and got to stay home from school, “Password” was one of the main attractions as we convalesced on the yellow living room couch.

“The password is ... ‘Christmas’” some deep-voiced announcer would whisper to the audience. Alan the great, as host, issued instructions and made sure contestants didn’t cheat.

Two teams, each consisting of a celebrity player and one citizen contestant, competed. The “password” was given to one player on each team and displayed on screen for home viewers. Game play alternated between the two teams, and team members gave one-word clues that would hopefully lead partners to come up with the secret word.

If I had been playing with Elizabeth Montgomery ... and boy, I would have loved playing with Elizabeth Montgomery as a 12-year-old in 1967 ... and Elizabeth said “Merry ...” I’m sure I would have followed her lead and exclaimed “... Christmas!”

At least that version of “Password” was easy to follow. The current version of “Password” is making me a little crazy.

It’s all about security on the Internet, I know. If I sign on to my America Online account, the security gremlin wants a password. And that one I’ve set up on automatic memory. I’ve done the same thing for my Kodak EasyShare site, so I can sneak into my online photo scrapbooks without any trouble. I think I’m still good on Amazon.com, too.

But I’m signing up for more and more sites, and finding you can’t always use the same password. Say I want to use the name of a famous 1930s horror writer as a password. Nope — many sites will ignore Lovecraft ... kind of like many people ignored H.P. when he was still alive ... because they want me to toss a number or two into the password mix. Other sites want just six characters.

I’ve currently persona non grata inside a medical benefits account because I don’t have the proper adjective or noun I used as a key. Or was it a number? And I can’t find my way back into the “Songza” music engine I signed up for a few months ago, because I’m not sure if I used my work or home e-mail address. Who knows what the password I planted in cyberspace, and later let wither and die.

Did I use the name of our family dog? Was it my favorite color? My college’s sports team nickname? Roger Moore’s most famous television role? My telephone number? The password is likely swirling in computer oblivion, cast into an endless pit full of discarded password names like “Karn Evil 9,” “867-5309,” “NCC-1701” “Genny Cream,” “Rowdy Yates” and “Aquinas73.”

I’ve told the sites to remember my password, but think the systems must get stupid if you don’t sign on for weeks or months and drop the automatic settings. Sure, they all have “Forget your password” instructions, but they can be both annoying and problematic. I never get it right the first time.

I really need the same word for all these sites. Too bad I just can’t use “Alan Ludden” as my online password.

Or better yet — when the computer asks “The password is ....?” — I’ll just respond by typing .... “password.”