Although the books were full of history, science, and various other subjects for school age children, I always started (and usually ended) with the literature section in the middle. The literature section had stories and poems. I memorized dozens of poems and one came in handy this month.
I made an appointment and recited, “Remember, remember the fifth of November.” I knew I had said that twice. Unfortunately, I couldn’t recall what I was going to remember. When I flipped the wall calendar to the new month, the fifth of November was a blank square. My PC was downstairs in the safe, and my phone had a dead battery.
I puzzled over the situation. I knew it was about time for my hair appointment, and sure enough when the battery came to life—there it was. This morning when I turned on my PC, I saw the other reminder. I can now get my second pneumonia shot. Well, I didn’t rush into get my shot, but I kept the hair appointment.
Rhyming poetry is a good way to memorize information. It’s how I used to remember how many days were in each month until I worked for more than thirty years plugging in the last day of the month for our reports. I no longer had to say, “Thirty days has September, April, June, and November…” Then there’s the “i” before “e” poem, although that one is pretty worthless because of all the exceptions.
Being able to remember important events is something all of us strive to do. Life can get so busy at times, that I often think of events after it’s too late. My phone does its best to remind me of everything I need to do. I even have my grocery list on it. I’m not sure how reliable my memory is without all the bells and whistles of my electronic calendars.
Being forgetful is something that concerns me. Alzheimer’s scares me more than any other disease. I shudder to think that an irreversible, progressive disease could erode my skills, erase my memories, and thrust me into a world of confusion.
I can’t imagine anything sadder than not recognizing my grandchildren. If I lost the ability to read or write, it would change who I am as a person.
With Jim, the thing I hated the most was that we had to place him in a Special Care Unit. He was locked inside, and it hurt my heart that he lost the freedom he had risked his life for in Vietnam. That Jim spent the last decade of his life in a faraway place is one of life’s unexplained mysteries. Bad things should happen to bad people not to good people.
The “Serenity Prayer” encourages us to accept what we cannot change. I have come to realize that what-ifs and could have beens only steal my joy, and need to be banished forever. I want to change the things I can, and know that I certainly need wisdom to make that happen.
Copyright © November 2019 by L.S. Fisher