Ever meet someone in the store, they remember you, and you don't remember them?
You carry on a conversation like you remember them, hoping all the time they will either say their name or mention how you know them. Happens to me more often than I care to admit.
I was reminded of these embarrassing moments when I received the poem "Forgetter Be Forgotten?" in an email. It reads:
"My forgetter's getting better, but my rememberer is broke; To you that may seem funny, but, to me, that is no joke!
"For when I'm 'here' I'm wondering, if I really should be 'there,' and, when I try to think it through, I haven't got a prayer!
"Oft times I walk into a room, say 'What am I here for?' I wrack my brain, but all in vain, a zero, is my score.
"At times I put something away, where it is safe, but, gee, the person it is safest from, generally is me!
"When shopping I may see someone, say 'Hi' and have a chat, then, when the person walks away I ask myself, 'Who the heck was that?
"Yes, my forgetter's getting better, while my rememberer is broke, and it's driving me plumb crazy, and that isn't any joke!"
All kidding aside, memory loss can be a real concern. I'd like to think that because we live in such an information-filled age that our brains just filter what we need to remember.
That doesn't prove out, though, if you think about our great-grandparents' generation, born in the late 1800s before tons of technology existed. I had a great-great-uncle, Willie, who didn't talk much, so I always figured he was strange. Looks different now that I'm 64.