Thanks for the memory …

The advantage of a bad memory is that one enjoys several times the same good things for the first time.

Friedrich Nietzsche

This week’s short Reflection is on memory. Not memories. Memory. My memory, in fact.

Over lunch with friends recently, one of them mentioned how good they thought my memory was. My wife demurred. She agreed that my memory was excellent on things of which I have interest but that on some other things it was not so good. Although my wife offered that some lapses of memory were simply that I do not listen properly. At least I think that’s what she said!

More seriously, my wife is correct that while my memory for some things is clear for other things, it resides in an impenetrable smog.

I can reel off the names of all the English Queens and Kings since Alfred. Give you dates of momentous occasions. Have clear recollection at what age I read a particular book, bought a record, or saw a film or where I bought a piece of clothing. I can give you the background to the Glorious Revolution or the backdrop to the Falaise Pocket. I even know my National Insurance number. Yet last week alone I forgot to put out the garden bins, locked myself out after failing to take a key and struggled in vain to remember the name of a well-known film star.

These are not unusual events. Especially being forgetful of names. That’s a trait I’ve had for many, many years. I read once that on meeting a person for the first time, you should repeat their name aloud while greeting them. That way, it stays in your memory. Not with me. There are people I worked with for years whose name would suddenly escape me in a meeting. I would look across a table with a sense of helplessness, desperately hoping to recall their name.

Are these memory lapses getting worse? I think so, but then again, my memory maybe playing tricks on me! My father’s theory for forgetfulness in older age was that a person’s memory had a finite capacity. Once passed a certain age, for every new thing you remembered you forget something. Maybe he was correct although I’m not sure that explains the “Now what did I come into this room for?” experience. I know those seem to happen more frequently these days.

I’m sure my occasional forgetfulness is nothing to worry over. Indeed, my wife is most likely correct that it's more lack of attention than anything more serious. However, for someone who took pride in their memory, I find my ever more frequent lapses a frustration. Along with aching joints and increasing wrinkles, a sign that the years roll on.

Now, where did I put my spectacles ….

Take care everyone and whatever you might forget, make sure it’s not your mask!