Failing Memory

I meant to blog about this topic earlier, but I forgot. My memory is getting worse every year. When I was a kid, I had a phenomenal memory, and my ability to retain almost everything I read or heard or saw made it seem as if I was a genius. Not that I was really stupid or anything, but an excellent memory made me seem even smarter than I really was. It really came in handy in school and test taking and in lawyering, especially trial work.

A good memory meant that I could get away with being extremely disorganized and that I didn’t need to spend time on taking notes, cleaning up files and developing systems for keeping facts straight. Nowadays, I depend more and more on organization.

A movie I saw a few years ago, “Memento”, really made me think about memory. In the film, Guy Pearce plays a man who, due to a head injury, cannot form new memories. Each morning he wakes up in a strange place, and he doesn’t know what he has been up to for the last few years. He has notes everywhere, even some tattooed onto his body, and he relies on deeply ingrained habits and other methods to construct the narrative of his life. This is complicated by the fact that he is trying to avenge his wife’s murder. The film is told from the end to the beginning, and this makes the audience experience some of the disorientation of the character. “Memento” was one of the most creative movies I have ever watched.

Now that memory is not as clear as it once was, I am learning the value of organization. As I testified in a deposition last month, I don’t keep most of the business information about my company in my head. I keep it in the files where I can refer to it on an ad hoc basis. The files have to be complete and retrievable to be of any use, and I spend a lot more energy on maintaining files than I used to. I am pretty good about deciding right away what is file-worthy and what is superfluous, and this makes the files more useful than if I just threw everything in. I don’t even try to remember most things or keep information handy inside my brain. I used to know the TV lineup by heart; now I keep that information in the TV Guide.

Another method of dealing with failing memory is habit. Your body learns to go through an unchanging routine. My morning ritual is in a set order from which I never deviate (otherwise I might forget to shave or some such thing). My own washing and dressing is followed by a dog walk, bird feeding, and e-mail checking. God forbid the phone should ring and disrupt the pattern. I might end up at work without pants.

Notes abound. We keep a calendar on the fridge with all appointments marked, heartworm dosage dates marked, and any other things we need to remember. I insist that dentists and doctors give reminder calls, and I arrange for my appointments to be at the same day of the week and time.

I keep a lot of information in the world itself. For example, I always keep my keys by the door where I will see them as I leave. Otherwise, they will be lost. Glasses are only in one of two places when they are not on my head. Hats and coats and umbrellas are always in the same place.

Most of my memory, however, is kept in Mrs Vache Folle’s brain.