Perhaps the most salient characteristic of the stereotypical image of human aging is the expected and dreaded decline in memory capabilities.Well, I just turned 60 last Sunday, thank you very much, and I am intensely vigilant against any perceived loss in my stored personal information. Hmm … that sounded a little militant, and the truth, as usual, is rather murkier.
I believe that people sift memories, slowly losing those that carry little or no significance, while retaining those that made an impact, even if we don’t know or understand the nature of that impact. My wife believes firmly that I am losing my memory, but, of course, I am not losing my memory. I am simply not an exception to the observation that aging people sift memories. It is similar to going on a trip: take what you need and want and leave the rest. You can free up a lot of brain shelf space that way.
Let’s see … I was talking about my wife and her unkind slurs about my memory, yeah, like she remembers everything … and sifting … and … OK, I’m back! It’s funny to me how selective the sifting process can be. I honestly cannot remember whether or not I attended my senior prom in high school; yet, I can recall in minute detail that day in third grade when I showed up wearing my first pair of glasses.
I cannot bring to mind the street address of the house in which we lived before our current domicile, and it has only been four or five years ago. But ask me my original Army ID number – go ahead, ask me – and I will rattle it off without skipping a beat. I needed that number in Vietnam, in the days before the Army began to use only your Social Security number. They said I didn’t need the original ID number anymore, so I will be reciting the damned thing with my final breath. Oh, yeah. How long ago? Almost forty years.
Don’t ask me where I parked the car in the parking lot less than twenty minutes ago, but I remember Mrs. Smith. She was my social studies teacher in the seventh grade. One day in class she announced that she was going to use a word in description of something, but, because it was a very difficult word, she was not going to hold us responsible for the word. We most certainly did not have to remember the word. The word she used was “Paleolithic.” I never forgot the word, although that, too, was a very long time ago.
My wife knows better than to send me out of the room with an extensive mental list of three things to do. Frequently, I will return within minutes and say: “Now, Honey, what was number two on my list?” Please notice I said “frequently,” not “always. On those occasions when I don’t return quickly to the room in which my wife is located, she will find me eventually somewhere else, doing something totally unrelated to our previous discussion, and she will inquire about the list. To which I will respond vaguely: “What list, Honey?”
And putting stuff down in unusual places and then not being able to find them later? Please, don’t get me started! But do ask me the Latin scientific name for the common guppy, and I can still tell you without hesitation. I learned that valuable piece of information before I ever entered high school. Do you think that maybe that might be on a trivia test sometime? I would like to win something. I have never won anything in my life; at least, I don’t think that I have. I just don’t remember.
I took the scissors from the kitchen utility drawer last night to cut something, and I forgot to put them back, and then I forgot where I had left them. As you can imagine, my wife became rather irritated with me, and I … I remember the first time I ever saw her. It was at a dance, and she was lovely. I can tell you what she was wearing, and I can tell you what she was talking about as we danced.
Men. She was talking about men and how awful they were. Halfway around the dance floor, I stopped, looked her in the eye, and said: “Whatever it was, I didn’t do it.” We finished the dance, and we have been together ever since. That was more than fifteen years ago. If I have ever had any complaints about our relationship, I don’t remember any of them now. And that’s just fine with me.
