Memory and the Loss Thereof

Loss of memory is the least serious stage of senility, the simple loss of the names of friends, acquaintances, even relatives, the loss of names for people in the news or in history books or in current entertainment, names that we once knew and can now not quite get off the tips of our minds. Also the loss of vocabulary words we once knew and used. This is senility in its simplest form. Dementia and Alzheimer’s are more about the physical decay of our brains than of our memories. I think that when we reach what we consider very old age, we simply no longer need these names and words, so we dump them alongside the roadside like empty Coke cans. Once upon a time we needed these names and words to show the world we weren’t losing our marbles, so we memorized them, committed them to memory with a mnemonic trick or two: “Never assume because it makes an ass of you and me,” “Thirty days hath September . . .,” “HOMES equals the Great Lakes,” and so on. But finally there comes a time when we’re no longer ever going to get on Who Wants to Be a Millionaire or have a reunion with friends, acquaintances, or relatives. They’re all dead. We no longer need the words because we’re no long communicating with anyone. They’re all dead. Old memories from our past we hang onto for the times we talk to ourselves, but the short-term stuff we let go because we no longer have anyone to share them with. They’re all dead. All the stuff we accumulated during our lives is no longer important to us, all the books we thought we wanted to keep forever, now superfluous, all the little knickknacks we purchased to put in shadow boxes or on shelves, now superfluous, all the papers and forms for our birth dates or home ownership, college transcripts and medical records, now superfluous. As we age, we wither like untended flowers in a garden we once cared for but no longer need. The flowers are all dead. Now that’s an image I’ll probably remember forever. But my forever is now more like fornever and isn’t nearly as long as it used to be.