When the narrator of Saul Bellow’s The Bellarosa Collection is asked about a long past event that he doesn’t recall, he responds “Lady, this is one of a trillion incidents in a life like mine. Why should I recollect it?” But it gets simpler and closer to home than that. We bow to the recognition of the reality of memory loss begrudgingly. This summer I realized that I was too often having difficulty remembering whether or not I took my morning pill regimen. So I’ve had to start using one of those day-by-day pill containers. As for my appliance changing schedule, every fourth day, it may say something for the wonders of the Hollister skin barrier that I use, as it never becomes uncomfortable, but it doesn’t say much for the grip of my memory when I discover that I can’t remember whether I’m on my third day or my fourth day. So I’ve started jotting it down on my desk calendar. Still, names of people and things sometimes escape me. What was the title of that movie? Oh, you know, what’s-her-name was in it. Amazingly, there are some decades old examples of that that run against all odds. Yesterday, I re-watched the film “The Irishman.” It begins and ends with a great song from the Fifties playing: “In the Still of the Night.” After only a few moments hesitation, the name of the group that sang it popped into my head: the Five Satins. It clearly was seriously encoded, and that was sixty-four years ago. Maybe I ought to listen to it some more. Now, where did I put that Oldie Goldie CD?
Henry, at least you have the comfort of knowing you're not alone in this category. The standing joke in our family is "Did I just eat a banana? Because I meant to." Unfortunately, those words came out of my mouth a few years ago, and I have never lived them down. They sound so much more ridiculous than my husband's "Where are my keys/glasses/phone......?" even though they are signs of the same deficiency. Now, what were we talking about?
Laurie
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Hi Henry, my wife and I call it senior moments. We'll be ready to watch a movie in the evening, and I'll ask, "Did we see this yet?" I guess that's why I like to watch sports—not too many reruns of them.
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Hello HenryM.
Thank you for the reminder about memory loss as it helps me recall an incident many years ago when I thought I might actively try to do something about my poor memory. I bought a book called 'Stop Forgetting' and I thought it was brilliant in introducing me to techniques of recalling stuff that hitherto had been beyond me. I was so impressed with it that I loaned it to somebody -- but unfortunately, I forgot who borrowed it so, my efforts were in vain. I now simply boast that, as I have become much older, I have a good excuse for not being able to remember things - whereas before it seemed that I had to look for justifications and excuses that were mostly fictional. I am sure that I have written a few rhymes on the subject, but I'm damned if I can remember where I put them!
Best wishes
Bill
I often help out my wife find things. Where is my purse, where is this or that? I know where they are, but I cannot find the car polish I bought last year. It must be in that safe place, wherever that is.
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Yeh, my wife often hides things (like candy, so I won't get into it), then can't remember where she hid it.
Oh no! The "safe" place! I have one of those too, but it might as well be a black hole in space. Anything that goes in the "safe" place is never seen again.
Laurie
Hi Henry, my memory, or lack of it, is a frequent source of irritation to me as I age. I've often brought a book home from the library and gotten a few paragraphs in only to realize I've already read it. I'm terrible with book titles. I need to write lists and put things on the calendar, or I would be lost. I'm a pretty organized person and don't often lose my glasses or keys; that's my husband's specialty, and we conduct a search for one or the other at least once or twice a week. My specialty is walking into a room and then saying to myself, "Why did I come in here?" I was going to add another irritating memory loss example, but I've forgotten what it was!
Terry
Whenever this concept comes up, I tell the story of one time when I was about to embark on a trip to New Zealand and I hid £300 in the loft. Just before I left, it dawned on me that my 'safe-place' was right near the water cistern so, if anything went wrong with the water, the plumbers would find my stash. Thus, at the last minute, I moved it. When I returned from NZ, I could not recall where I had moved it to - and to this day I have never found it. Now, that's what I call a 'safe-place'.
Best wishes
Bill