My bookshelves are over-full. Sometimes I think my brain is, too. So when they say:
8. “At your age, you are allowed to forget some things!”
10. “Wow! You’re sharp as a tack.”
…”they” likely get a really evil look from me. DO I forget things? Who does not? I memorize my passwords — and no, they are not four-digit sorts. But my mind typically does not remember fiction book plots for more than a few months anymore. It really IS as if my memory is becoming more selective – what matters and what is just “filler”?
Not every aging person is going to suffer dementia. And age is not the only memory whacker. Once, when I was 30, I underwent a particularly traumatic family event. When I got back to work afterwards, I was humiliated to realize I had completely forgotten the combination to my work safe! They had to drill it out and replace the mechanism! Trauma can clear reams of mental data, let me tell you — and it doesn’t even take a physical knock to the head! Even sleeplessness affects memory. And too much sugar — you soda-guzzling fools!
I do allow myself to forget. I have always, for instance, had trouble recalling the names of people I dislike. If the ancient Egyptians could eradicate names of unpopular sorts from cities and sculptures ? Why can’t I dis-engrave my memory on occasion? I hope, oh-so-much, that after November 8th? The news crews will STFU and I can work on forgetting Donald Trump, for example!
My mind – memory is going to be like my bookshelves: always busy and crowded, possibly dusty in corners, but never a peaceful empty room. That’s why, back in 2001 – we built an “empty room”! The Honey House IS my empty room, where I work to empty my over-filled mind. But I keep the tacks sharp, for people who say nonsense like #8 and #10. (Tomorrow, #9)