Memory is a funny thing.
I am frequently amazed at the seemingly endless amount of useless information I have stored in my brain.
I can vividly remember an outfit I had in second grade that I hated with a passion not often seen in such a young child. It was a long-sleeved peasant top printed with strawberries, a pair of slacks that would make a fire engine say, “Wow! That’s red!” and a pair of white, mid-calf boots with white, faux shearling fur around the top. (It was the late ’70s.) The dye in the pants rubbed off and turned the fur pink. I hated that outfit (especially the pants — the boots were OK until they had pink fur).
And wouldn’t you know? It was darn near indestructible. I couldn’t rip, tear, spindle or otherwise mutilate those pants in any way I could have convinced my mother was accidental, and I was too scared to try setting them on fire. I was a pretty smart second grader, but I don’t think I could have made a convincing case for spontaneous combustion as the destructive culprit. Also, I could not reach the matches.
I remember the combination to the locker I had in ninth grade. I remember my grandparents’ telephone number. I remember the word I misspelled that caused me to lose the French spelling bee at Austin College when I was in 10th grade, and I remember how I misspelled it.
I am also amazed at the amount of important information that seems to leak out of my brain just at the moment I need it most.
It’s like trying to grab something I dropped in water. The more I try to grab it, the further away from me it slips. The more I try to think of whatever it is, the less likely I am to recall it. Until 3 a.m., when my memory suddenly returns as if it’s just awakened from a refreshing nap.
And decides to show me the highlight reel of every embarrassing mistake, questionable decision or stupid statement I’ve ever made. Then my memory works just fine.
One thing I frequently forget is people’s names. Especially names of people I really need to remember, like members of the community or people at church. I think (I hope) I’ve mastered the art of acting like I totally know who I’m talking to, even though I couldn’t tell you that person’s name if my life depended on it.
Another area where my memory frequently fails is when I forget why I’ve just walked into a room. I have to retrace my steps physically, and then do the same thing mentally. “Let’s see — I was standing in my living room thinking about a movie I watched three years ago and decided I was hungry, but then I remembered I needed to do a load of laundry…”
Grocery lists are another problem area. I can’t remember everything I needed to add to my shopping list, so items frequently get left off — even necessities. Half the time I arrive at the store to discover I forgot to bring the list with me, so I then have to recall as best I can what was on it. I often arrive back home with a full load of supplies only to discover I have few of the items I needed (which is why they were on my list in the first place) and several items I didn’t need.
Once I arrived home with three boxes of cereal but forgot the milk, which was what I went to buy in the first place. I have bought bread for sandwiches, but not the lunchmeat to go between the slices.
And then there’s my favorite game I get to play as I leave the store — I call it “Dude, where’s my car?” I am one of those people — the ones who purposely set off their car alarm in order to find the car using echolocation. It’s annoying, but effective.