Recoiling At The Lack of Recalling
Memory is a funny thing. When I was teaching I would marvel at what my students would remember—-and not remember. “Hey, Mr. Maltese, you wore that same tie the last three Tuesdays in a row.” This from Freddy who could not answer my question, “What novel did we finish yesterday?” or “Who wrote Mark Twain’s book, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn?” I usually let the students off the hook…they were kids, and they were in school to learn. I was harder on myself. I would be walking down a school corridor amidst all the hubbub and chaos of student traffic during the changing of classes, when Tiffany would run up to me. “Hey, Mr. Maltese, remember to change my Brave New World test score from a “78” to an “80.”
“Okay, Tiffany. I got it.”
I would continue my stride to my next class when Alfred approached me. “Hey, Mr. Maltese, can you write me a library pass so I can work on my research paper?” I get out my pad of passes and issue Alfred a library pass. In the process I would completely forget Tiffany’s change of grade request. I hadn’t “got it.”
Remembering names was a challenge. As a teacher I had to work hard in the beginning of the school year to memorize all 140 student names. It was important to them. And I did memorize them, but I think my own family suffered as a result. I was insulted when my mother called me by my brother’s name. I forgave her when, as a father, addressing my daughter Meredith, I would call out,“Christie….uh….Becky….uh….Jim…..uh….Nyssa (Nyssa was our cat)…..uh….Meredith.
I explained these memory failures on my brain’s having to juggle hundreds of student requests, lesson plans, administrative duties, and thousands of other responsibilities.
Now that I am retired, what is my excuse?
As a kid, I actually liked memorizing things. The times table, lines from Shakespeare, the lineup and batting averages of the New York Yankees. I can still recall lines from movies I last saw when I was ten, (“Klaatu barada nikto” the phrase Michael Rennie tells Patricia Neal to say to the robot Gort in The Day the Earth Stood Still) but I have to work hard to remember what I had for breakfast this morning. In college biology I had the genera and species for all the fungi we studied down pat. Now, when Polley and I watch a movie, this is a typical occurrence.
“Hey, hey, hey…there’s that guy…what did we just see him in? That Law and Order…..what was it? You know…the guy who it turns out, you know, turns out he was the serial killer…oh come on, you know….”
As it turns out we just saw the episode yesterday. Or we’ll watch a movie and the identity is in the brain but it is composed of cloud matter that is dispersed throughout my entire cerebral cortex and it takes time for the specks to coalesce into a name. I was watching Bullitt with Steve McQueen. Every guy I know watches that entire movie just for the chase scene. Steve McQueen pops into a taxi, and for two seconds the taxi driver is shown…could not think of his name….tip of my tongue, but the name would not materialize in my brain. Two hours later, the cloud forms and rains the answer—Robert Duval. And this brain freeze is with famous people. Not so famous is worse.
Meeting several people simultaneously at a social function is an intellectual challenge to the memory bank…..the vault usually empties after the first two introductions.
“This is Margaret, her husband Tom, Margaret was with me in shoulder therapy, this is Alice, her husband taught elementary school at Briar Beech, and you know Harry from book club (I did not remember Harry from book club), and Betty from the gym, she also has twins and her daughter almost went to Mount Holyoke like Christie and Becky.”
So later on, when I am nursing my Pinot Noir and trying to discreetly fish my Frito out of the spinach dip, I ask Polley for a refresher. “So the guy I am partnering with in bridge is the guy who taught at Briar Beech and was with you in therapy and his kid went to Mount Holyoke.” Polley just shakes her head.
The memory lapses seem to increase exponentially as I grow older. I will be sitting in my study when I realize I need something from our bedroom. I get up, walk into the bedroom while thinking about the next sentence I am going to write. Suddenly I find myself in the bedroom asking myself, “Why am I here? What is it I wanted?”
Lists have become very important. If Polley and I don’t compose lists, we find ourselves in stores aimlessly wandering and wondering what it was we needed to buy. And we have to write these lists the second we think of the items to purchase….lest we forget. Sometimes we forget what we remembered. While shopping for a dinner we will host, it is not uncommon for this dialogue to take place.
“One of the sides is twice baked potatoes, right?”
“Right.”
“Do we have to get potatoes?”
“No, I got them the other day…..maybe I thought about getting them the other day.”
“We better buy some just to be certain.”
We added the newly purchased potatoes to the pile of potatoes in the pantry (also known as our “garage”) at home.
Remember Texas Governor Rick Perry’s presidential campaign? During one of the debates, he argued that there were three government agencies that could be eliminated. As he began identifying these agencies, a bubble of tar or some other highly viscous material invaded his neural pathway, causing him to list only two agencies. He mentally grasped for the third, but the bubble won. I am not a big fan of the governor’s policies or thinking, not by a long shot, but I empathize with his embarrassing bout of forgetfulness. “There are three movies we want to see….La La Land, Hacksaw Ridge………”
We do spend time devising strategies to counteract our failures of memory. We promise ourselves that we would put important documents—-tax statements, gift certificates, doctors’ prescriptions, etc.—-in a “safe place.” We simply can’t remember where those safe places are, having succeeded only in keeping those important items safe indeed—safe from us.
I kept a journal of my fly fishing experiences, streams I fished, number of fish caught, flies used, weather and water conditions, all the information I would need to be successful on my next fishing excursion. I put the journal in a space which would provide easy access and an unforgettable location. I am still searching for that journal. My mistake was putting it where I could not possibly lose it.
In researching this topic, I found some cause for optimism. Memory loss is not the same as dementia.
“ Memory loss is not an inevitable part of the aging process
The brain is capable of producing new brain cells at any age, so significant memory loss is not an inevitable result of aging. But just as it is with muscle strength, you have to use it or lose it. Your lifestyle, health habits, and daily activities have a huge impact on the health of your brain. Whatever your age, there are many ways you can improve your cognitive skills, prevent memory loss, and protect your grey matter.
- Walk whenever possible
- Get plenty of sleep
- Avoid smoking
- Learn about omega-3 fats and their role in brain health
- Stay social by prioritizing face-to-face connections
- Learn something new
Furthermore, many mental abilities are largely unaffected by normal aging, such as:
- Your ability to do the things you’ve always done and continue to do often
- The wisdom and knowledge you’ve acquired from life experience
- Your innate common sense and your ability to form reasonable arguments and judgments” https://www.helpguide.org/articles/memory/age-related-memory-loss.htm
That is encouraging.
There is a nice little movie, Memento, in which the protagonist suffers from acute short term memory loss. In trying to fulfill his mission, since he cannot trust his memory, he writes notes to himself on his skin. Frustrated at my forgetfulness, I have considered this option, but then reality set in. I would have to gain five hundred pounds to increase my skin surface in order to write down what I need to remember.
So I am currently employing a strategy to justify my declining power of memory. It is all bogus, of course, but sometimes we need to lie to ourselves. One of my favorite movies is Charade, starring Cary Grant and Audrey Hepburn. They meet in a skiing chalet, and he asks if they have met before, and suggests that they might become friends.
“Oh, no!” Audrey replies. “I already have too many friends, and until one leaves, I can’t possibly have another one.”
“Oh. Well, if one gets on the critical list, let me know.”
I argue that so it is with information. I have stuffed so much info into my gray matter over my tenure on this earth that I cannot possibly retain another fact or statistic or idea until one piece of information leaves my brain. Ten minutes into writing this blog a fantastic idea for a thought-provoking conclusion popped into my brain but, alas, I should have written it down the second I experienced the revelation. The great ending has evaporated into the ether. Sorry.