Mrs. Diddleydoo

Recently I visited the church in which I grew up. Surprisingly, people still remembered me and greeted me by name. I cannot tell you how silly I felt that I couldn't remember their names. I was smiling and talking to them, and all the while, I was rapidly fast-forwarding and rewinding all the tapes in my head to try and remember who they were.

To them: "How lovely to see you too!"

To myself: "Can't really ask about their children because I don't even know if they have children."

To them: "Yes, just here for a few days."
To myself: " Think, think think, Marni....you recognize them...now who are they?? Anything?????"Nope, nothing."
To them: "Yes, you too! Take care!"

It is hard to admit that I've hit this wall of selective memory. Some days, I do well to remember my own family. What is strange, is that in the middle of the night sometimes, random names will pop into my head. "Ah, yes, it was Betty. She was the mother of Amy, whom I babysat". Of course at that hour of night, there's no use saying the name out loud, because all it does is wake my husband up.

Another thing about memory loss is the fights it starts with your family members who grew up with you. When it comes to stories about walking and talking in your sleep, invariably the story about getting up in the middle of the night to change the curtains from one side to the other comes up. I have claimed that fame for all these years, until my sister informed me in no uncertain terms, that it was SHE who did this. At least it's not like we are arguing over who put our allowance into stocks and bonds which accrued so much interest. Still, when you are telling the story as if it is your own, you like it to be believable.

Selective memory is no respector of persons, or of situations. It strikes at the most inopportune times. I believe the only answer to this problem, is to make as many things up as you can, and just hope that no one will ask you to confirm the details.