By JIM SCHUH
of The Gazette
As we age, we find that our recall abilities aren't quite what they used to be. Lots of people have done studies on reasons for this problem, but I'm not aware of any that give us definitive answers.
Some people say that if you retire and vegetate, your mind mimics those actions. They believe that if you keep active and use your brain, it won't go stale on you. I've always liked my late stepfather's wisdom - he claimed that if your "brain box" got filled up - as happens to people of age with lots of facts and experiences to remember - it is harder to retrieve the stored information. That seems to make sense - if the hard drive on your computer is filled, it takes longer to find and display the information you requested.
Regardless of the reasons, I find myself less able to pull up information as quickly as when I was younger. Making it tougher still is the fact that my brain is crammed with trivia from my years as a journalist.
You may able to relate to this situation: You see someone you know - perhaps not well - someone you see infrequently - and you just cannot come up with a name to match the face. This seems to be happening to me a little more lately. (Two hours later, that person's full name pops out at you from nowhere.)
I have rationalized that my mind isn't failing me; after all, I've met more people than some others have - perhaps a result of my line of work in broadcasting. I tell myself that the reason I can't come up with a name is because of the minor celebrity status that some associate with people who work on the air - they remember me, although I can't remember them. So I excuse myself. It could be that my physical dimensions also might help folks remember me. And in the supermarket checkout line, it's happened that folks have heard me say something, recognize my voice from the radio - even today, more than two years after I've been off the air - and call me by name. I am flattered by their graciousness, but I still haven't a clue to their identity.
I don't know if such logic is fair, or even makes any sense - but it sounds like a plausible and comforting explanation to me.
I don't want what I'm about to say next to insult anyone I've greeted recently. It could be that I really did remember you or your name. But to cover me in situations when I can't immediately pull up a name, I've developed a defense mechanism. I greet people back with smile and a warm and hearty "Hi, how are you?" and follow that with a question whose answer might give me a clue as to who they are. Sometimes it works; sometimes it doesn't. In any event, we chat briefly about nothing, smile again and go our separate ways. Then my wife asks, "Who was that?" My answer is frequently the same: "I have no idea."
Now that spring is here, Martha and I usually take a daily walk.
Occasionally, people in passing cars toot and wave to us. Sometimes, I know the car or catch enough of a glimpse of the driver to recognize the well-wisher. But frequently, the car passes so quickly that I didn't get a chance to identify the driver. Again, Martha asks, "Who was that?" She gets the same response from me: "I have no idea." Or on occasion, I'll ask her, "Who was that?" Martha replies, "I don't know." So we smile and walk on.
We've all had the experience of going into a room to get or do something. Invariably, you ask yourself, "Why did I come in here?" Unable to recall the correct answer, your only recourse is to leave the room and go back to where you began. Then almost always, the answer comes to you, and you can complete your mission.
But sometimes you'll go into a room, forget why you went there or become distracted, and then do several other things. Although you failed at your intended chore, there' a good deal of consolation to such activity - you can tell yourself that despite your lapsis mensis, your productivity remains intact.
Losing track of where you put your eyeglasses is one of the biggest annoyances. If you're fortunate enough to use glasses only for reading, you can probably afford to buy a few extra sets of off-the-shelf reading specs and station them in strategic locations around the house for use when you need them. The only time you run into trouble is when you find all of them in the same room.
My sister claims that a foolproof method of remembering where your glasses are is to say aloud when you take them off and set them down, "I'm leaving my glasses on the kitchen table."
For those who want me to learn mnemonic devices or memory tricks at my advanced age, here's my advice: Forget it!
You may reach Jim Schuh at The Gazette, or by e-mail at jpschuh@excite.com.