Monday, February 8, 2016

Alas, Poor Memory, by Gillian


No, I haven't really lost my memory in the true sense, and I have enough friends who have that I know it's nothing to joke about. But in another sense, I have, because I don't know where it's coming from these days. It makes little sense to me. Why does it feed me endless meaningless trivia and deny me access to the things that really matter?

Which is it you need most in everyday conversation, nouns or verbs? And which is it that my memory blocks my path to over and again? And I know it's not just my memory but that of many older people. Our conversations are scattered with whatnots and thingamajigs. But who is ever at a loss for those verbs?

"Shall we walk or drive to Whatsit's after the thingy," I say.

Have you ever heard anyone say, "Shall we whatever or thingamy to Susan's after the reception"?

No! It's always the nouns that go.

Whenever in my life I was to visit a country where I didn't speak the language, which I'm sad to say is most, I made it a point to learn 50 words in that language. It's simply amazing how far you can get on fifty basic common words. Did I learn a whole lot of verbs? No. Maybe to be and to go. And of course please and thank you, yes and no. Other than that it was nouns; the real essentials. Needless to say my mean little memory will no longer turn loose most of them in any language, though I can still sometimes conjugate a few verbs. It's as if the path to nouns has been overused to the point of challenging travel. The road to verbs, though, less travelled as it is, offers easy access.

My memory lets me quote my mother's endless proverbs and sayings without a hitch; don't run before you can walk, pride comes before a fall, every cloud has a silver lining, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it, many a true word is spoken in jest. I don't remember ever asking myself, after all these years,

"What was it my mother used to say about .... ?"

No, they all spring uninvited to my consciousness and even to my lips. But can I remember what someone earlier today asked me to tell Betsy? Highly unlikely! Why does my memory so insist on locking away anything which actually matters, while releasing this endless stream of the inconsequential?

I can quote endless poetry I learned in school. Many people know the lines from Tennyson about loving and losing but I am one of probably very few who know the two lines before it, so the whole verse reads -

I hold it true what e'er befall,
I feel it when I suffer most,
Tis better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all.

And of course he wrote the entire In Memoriam poem, over a seventeen-year period, to another man, but that's another story, and another useless one my brain lets me use any time I want - which I must say is infrequently.

Worse yet, my memory is a fountain of the totally ridiculous. For example, with apologies to it's originator, Virginia Hamilton, the following -

What a wonderful bird the frog are.
When he sit he stand almost
When he stand he sit almost.
He ain't got no tail hardly.
When he sit he sit on what he ain't got almost.

I can remember that with no effort, yet when I chance upon an old friend in the grocery store I cannot work enough magic to come up with her name. Go figure! Ah well, I guess we all have to work with what we have. So if you come over to chat to me and, rather than acknowledging you by name, I greet you with,

"What a wonderful bird the frog are," you'll know I'm just making the best of what I've got.

© 15 Jun 2016 

About the Author  


 I was born and raised in England. After graduation from college there, I moved to the U.S. and, having discovered Colorado, never left. I have lived in the Denver-Boulder area since 1965, working for 30 years at IBM. I married, raised four stepchildren, then got divorced after finally, in my forties, accepting myself as a lesbian. I have been with my wonderful partner Betsy for thirty years. We have been married since 2013.

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