Memory’s strange behavior

Today I had an annual physical that included a “Wellness Visit”.

The Wellness Visit was an interview with an RN who asked various questions about my health and made some recommendations.  One of the first items was for me to memorize three words: apple, table, penny.  I tucked "ATP" in my brain to help remember them.  A few minutes later I could only remember apple and table!  Fortunately my total score for all the cognitive tests was fairly high for my age.

Later I told the doctor about this, but forgot “table”.  As soon as he left the room, I remembered "apple, table, penny".

After the visit, I went back to the fitness center to pick up my things.  The person next to me looked familiar.  Another person came in and said, “Hi, Gary.”  Click: Gary Houdek, owner of Jitters Tea and Coffee.  Except he had sold it recently to relatives of the owner of the building.  He also remembered me even though I hadn’t come in for several years, probably from my Reader Weekly column.

But then I forgot about a play tonight at UMD.  My wife reminded me of it, and so we won’t forget to go.

I had a different closing, but I forgot it.  Just kidding!  I actually remembered that I had forgot about the play and intended its mention to be my last sentence.

Remember where you were when you heard…

Tonight we watched "Julia" with Jane Fonda and Vanessa Redgrave, a tight, engrossing movie about Lillian Hellman and her friend Julia.  I won't get into the veracity of the story, but I would like to mention my own personal incident concerning Lillian Hellman.  At the conclusion of the movie, I remembered where I was when I heard that she had died!

In the summer of 1984 I was driving on 42nd St. in Crystal, Minnesota when I heard a tribute to her on Minnesota Public Radio.  I was a block west of the Post Office.

I also remember where I was when I heard Jack Kennedy was shot, Walt Disney died, Marshall Dodge the Maine storyteller died, about 9/11, and 54 million shares were traded on the New York Stock Exchange the day before.

BTW, what is your name again?

Notoriety not good for memory

It's a bit embarrassing when people say "Hi, Mel!" and I can't respond with their names.  I know I have memory lapses, and sometimes I should have known a greeter's name.  But with a little bit of hubris, I like to think that others have more reason to remember my name than I have to remember theirs.  My name is in print more often.

That doesn't mean that everybody in Duluth knows who I am.  I do know a couple of movers and shakers and they know my name, but there are probably many more movers and shakers who have no idea who I am.

I did write a column for the Reader Weekly, a regional freebie, for a few years, and once in a while I submit a letter or an opinion piece to the Duluth News Tribune.  I've led a few classes for University for Seniors.  And I do speak up in class a lot.  I think this combination makes it easier for others to remember my name than for me to remember theirs.

When people ask if I'm still writing, I hand them my card with the URL of this blog.  I think I've handed out far more cards than there are readers of this blog.  I guess most people find it easier to read the newspaper than to type a URL in their browser.

The strange workings of our minds

My wife has read many Janet Evanovich novels.  She mentioned that the story line used to be clever and tight but has become just raunchy.  She said the main character, Stephanie Plum, was a bounty hunter, but at the moment she had the wrong idea of a bounty hunter, thinking mostly about animals.  In bits and pieces I pulled out of my own mind that a bounty hunter was a person who tracked down those who jump bail.  They are hired by bondsmen but have to get a receipt of the capture from the police.

I said I had seen a movie about this, I remember the bondsman kept his money in his socks and the bounty hunter was played by Robert DeNiro.  Then it came to me that the movie was "Midnight Run".  I checked Google and one of the top entries was the Wikipedia article - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Midnight_Run.

The movie was produced in 1988 and I probably watched it on VHS in the early '90s.  I didn't remember all the details given in the Wikipedia synopsis, but I did remember that the bail jumper got away (or was let go) and that DeNiro's competitor had gotten DeNiro's credit card cancelled.

I don't claim any particular genius in remembering these long-ago details; most of us have these same capabilities.  They are just so hit and miss.  We can't remember the name of somebody we met yesterday, but we remember the name of somebody we haven't seen in decades.

I think David Eagleman got it right with "Incognito: The Hidden Lives of the Brain".  There are so many processes going on in our brains of which we are not aware.  See "Memory and coincidence".

Memory and coincidence

Last Thursday I listened to a "To the Best of Our Knowledge" podcast from 2012-06-17.  One of the segments was on the brain.  It was rebroadcast of an interview with David Eagleman, author of "Incognito: The Secret Lives of the Brain".  One of his points was how we push problems to our sub-conscious and an answer may just pop into our heads later, like after a good night's sleep.

I've often felt this, but one incident after the show really emphasized the truth of this.

I was trying to remember the name of a singer we hosted years ago when she gave a concert in Duluth.  I could even picture one of her albums that we have.  Nada!

Friday night we were on Skype with our son and he was talking about his July visit to Minnesota.  He mentioned that he wanted to attend a concert of his friends, the duo Patchouli.  Bingo! Claudia Schmidt!  She's still performing.

I should reconnect our record player and run through an LP or two of hers.

Getting older with an active mind

The older I get, the longer my to-do list gets.  In fact, it is so long that it seems I spend half my time deciding which item to do next.

Even then, after I do something, I am on to so many other things I forgot what I have done.

Several acquaintances have told me that they enjoy reading my letters to the editor, either in the Star Tribune or in the Duluth News Tribune, mostly the latter.  Many ask we when I'm going to write something again.  I've been telling them that I can only get published every 30 days, if my letter or article is accepted.

Today somebody asked me when I would have something in again, and I replied that I had submitted to the Star Tribune.  But I couldn't remember what the subject was; I think in part because I moved on to several other ideas.  It wasn't until hours later that I remembered it was on the proposed marriage amendment to the Minnesota Constitution.

Gosh, I wish I could get as many people who ask me about my letters would read this blog.  I'm still running between 20 and 30 subscribers every day with only one or two actually looking at the full text.

Now to decide which of the seven items in my list in my composition file to write next, or should I select one of the dozen or so in another to-do list, or …

A sour hour

Speaking of cell phones, I spent over an hour worrying about the whereabouts of my cell phone. I didn't think I had left it on the table at a potluck last night. I couldn't find it in any of my pockets, pants, jacket, or shirt. It wasn't in the car. It wasn't on the dining room table or buried in the stack of newspapers. I couldn't find it on our dresser. I couldn't find it on my cluttered desk, even when I moved the clutter around.

I called my cell phone and received immediately the message: "Either my phone is turned off or I am driving. Please leave a message and I'll return your call as soon as possible." Because it answered immediately it was turned off.

OK, I guess I'll suspend service. I went to Verizon's website, signed in, and suspended the service.

For some reason I wondered about the charging unit for the phone. I looked at an outlet on my desk's backboard and saw the charger plugged in with the cord dangling down. At the end of the cord was my cell phone, hidden by one of the freestanding speakers for my computer.

I went to Verizon's website and restored service. I called our home phone with my cell phone and the former rang right away.

As my wife says often, "It's around here someplace."

The lost word

Last night as I was falling asleep I had an idea for a blog.  It was so clear that I had it half-written in my head.  I should get up, start up my computer, and start writing.  Naw!   I would rather go to sleep.  I can do it in the morning.

The sun came up and the idea had gone completely away.  Just like Adelaide Anne Porter's "The Lost Chord", my lost word "trembled away into silence… I have sought, but I seek vainly".  See "The Lost Chord" in Wikipedia.

Forgetfulness leads to rude awakenings

Sunday night at our cabin I managed to go to sleep reasonably soon and was dreaming.  Suddenly, I was bolt awake.  Did I put away "the saw"?

"The saw" is a nice, sharp pruning draw saw that our son gave me one Christmas.  It also has a nice thick leather scabbard that one can strap to the leg.  It is the middle way between nippers and a chain saw.  My wife and I have both left it out overnight or longer.

I looked in the corner where we usually keep it.  I no see the saw:(  Nippers, yes, but no saw.

I put on a rain jacket and rubber boots.  Of course it's raining when something gets left out.  I took a flashlight and looked at several likely spots, including the cart by chipper where I had last used it.  I came back discouraged.

By now my wife was fully awake and suggested I use a big flashlight from our car.  She also said that I didn't have it in my hand when I greeted Kevin.  Kevin plows our drive in the winter, does heavy equipment work for us, and has cut down some really big trees.  The current job is replacing a rusty culvert along the road.

Now memories of the day came back.  I was just finishing up with the chipper when I heard a heavy truck maneuvering on the road.  I picked up my saw and went down the path.  As I got to our parking area I saw a dump truck backing down the driveway.  Why is Kevin bringing us gravel now?  Kevin stepped down from the truck and greeted me.  I greeted him back and we shook hands; I remembered taking off my glove.  He said he came for his Lo-Boy to move a skidder for another job.

We chatted about a few things, looked at the work he had done and he told me what he still planned to do.  We discussed a few other odds and ends.  He hooked up his trailer and left.  My wife and I went on about our evening.

With these thoughts in my head I went out again in the drizzle.  I got the big flashlight out of the back of the SUV and started walking toward the chipper.  Oh, wait!  If I was walking toward the backing truck with the saw in my hand, could I have put it down on the hood of the SUV?  I turned around and went to the front of the SUV.  Sure enough, there it was on the hood with a soaked scabbard.

When I got back in the cabin I pulled out the saw and found that it was still reasonably dry.  I set it aside and hung up the scabbard to dry.  With a few kicks to my own butt, I was able to get back to sleep soon enough.

The story doesn't end there.  The next day I noticed a chewed place on the scabbard.  It might have been chewed before and I hadn't noticed.  More likely a squirrel hopped up on the hood and had a small feast of protein.

Hey, Darryl!  Despite our careless handling of your gift, we really do appreciate it.

Did I or didn't I?

Yesterday I decided that I had enough skiing for the season; it was just too rainy. I drove to Spirit Mt. to take the rest of my gear out of our locker, leaving only our skis. We thought that leaving the skis in the locker would be better for them. It would be drier than in our basement.

On my way out I looked at our locker through the window and thought it looked locked. I thought about going back in to double-check, but I didn't want to get involved in conversation again.

When I got home I convinced myself that it would be OK. If I didn't lock the lock, somebody else would. Then in the middle of the night I started worrying about it again. I couldn't specifically remember closing the lock. I couldn't get the thought out of my head. I took some valerian to go back to sleep and it worked.

I still worried when I woke up in the morning. I didn't want to worry all summer about this. I decided I would leave at a time that would let me get there after the doors were open but before the near parking lot filled up. I did get there earlier than I normally would, but the near lot was already half-full. It is Saturday, but it is a drizzly, warm Saturday!

Sure enough, the lock was locked and both sets of skis and poles were still in the locker. I put the lock back on and pushed it closed.

As soon as I was outside again, I wondered if I did. Should I go back and double-check? Well, this time I had a clear memory of pushing the lock closed. Or was that a memory from another time?

I forgot that I remembered not to forget

Today when I went to our cabin, I placed my wallet and Duluth keys on the counter by the door. I did this because they often chafe my thighs as I work around the area.

On my way back to Duluth this afternoon, I checked my pocket about 10 minutes away. There were no keys in my pocket! Oh, great! I could use my wife's keys but it could be inconvenient.

I pulled into a dirt road/drive and double checked. No keys in any pocket. I watched for oncoming traffic and backed out. As I started up I looked in my rear view mirror and there was a car right behind me. So much for looking carefully. But it could have been worse than the other driver's inconvenience.

I arrived back at our cabin and decided to back in rather than back out. I was only going to the gate and would walk back to the cabin. Backing in is a little dicey because we have a short culvert over the drive. I could back into the ditch very easily. I made it and reached for the keys to turn off the engine.

Those are my keys!

Besides nearly getting rear-ended for this "undersight" and possibly getting stuck in the ditch, I arrived at my bank eight minutes after the drive up closed. I wanted to get quarters for tomorrow's newspapers. Guess I'll have to use a fist full of dimes and nickels.

Is this another of those senior, what's the word?