Tag Remembering

Something I said?

Michael 9 Comments

I was speaking with a friend who was stuck for something he couldn’t remember. “Oh, you know. It was something you said, you must remember.” “Something I said?” “Yeah, something you said. Oh, we were at, umm, give me a minute, hmm hmm hmm,” and that point he started humming. Humming.  A tune, a little ditty, a song. It could have been my imagination stemming from his comment “something you said” added to the fact that I and just gotten out of the car and the David Benoit song, Something You Said, was playing on the radio, but I was certain that was the tune he was humming. Whatever it was, he had hummed his way to remembering. “Yeah, I got it. You said…” and off we went into our conversation, that to be honest, right now I don’t remember at all. Maybe I should start singing to myself and it will come to me.

All sorts of people, from the giants in cognitive sciences to everyday bloggers, have written about memory. There are tips and tricks to tackle, vitamin pills to pop, herbs to brew into faux teas, and almost none of them work…except for the one that works for you. I’ve heard that if you want to tell somebody something and you don’t remember what, go back into the room where you first thought of it and it will come to you. I’ve heard if you recreate the original environment in which something happened, it will comeback to you. Cook something from your past, look at pictures from your past, all great ideas except…how do you know what room to go back to if you don’t know what you want to remember? How will cooking Grandma’s almost famous pear butter help you remember where you put your insurance card and car registration the nice police officer just asked for? If you remember that you forgot something but you don’t remember what it is, how will you know what environment to recreate? You could be reliving your third date with the second person you dated in your first year of grad school when you should be soaking in a hot tub on the back patio with fireworks booming over the city just on the other side of those trees.

It is said scents are a powerful memory aid as is music, but I think those are more for abstract memories. You smell something and it reminds you of something you did or somewhere you went. A particular song jogs free a recollection of a specific event or a special, or even not so special person in your life’s past. But if you want to remember where you put the combination to the suitcase locks that you use maybe once a year, sniffing all the pineapples in the produce section isn’t going to loosen that bit of information, not even if you want the suitcase to pack for a week in Hawaii.

No, for that kind of memory jogger, I believe we’re stuck with the classic folk remedies and you might as well get to retracing those steps and rebuilding that scene. Actually, there is something to those methods, and to my friend’s humming interlude, that is far superior to the “fling everything in the air and see if you can spot what you’re looking for coming down” method of remembering – they all force you to calm your mind.

I’m no cognitive scientist so I’m likely wrong about this, but I don’t think it has anything to do with where you are, what you’re smelling, or what size kettle Grandma use for that pear butter. Think about it, when you retrace your steps. What are you doing? You are saying to you self, “Self, look around and see what seems special about here,” or, “okay, Grandma had 3 really big pots, now what color were they?” or, “why did I tie this string on my finger?” All of them are other ways of saying, “calm down and think. You can figure this out.” It doesn’t matter whether those old wives tales are true because they aren’t actually jogging your memory. But it matters that for you, there is a truism among them because it is the one that gets you to calm yourself and allow you mind to pull that memory into your consciousness.

So the next time you need to remember something, just tell yourself, “I can do this. Let me think calmly and rationally. After all, it was probably something I said.”

In the most recent  Uplift! we explore not just wanting to help but actually doing something to help, being passionate about being compassionate!

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https://youtu.be/BQE0pZbhG10

Remembering 2018 – Differently

Michael Leave a comment

This is it. The last day of 2018 is here and everybody who is anybody has published his or her year in review. So who am I to buck tradition?

Last year was, ummm, different. That’s my review in 4 words. Ummm, 5 words? Here’s how I justify that statement. Sort of.

Health: Nope, has nothing to do with kidneys, dialysis, transplants, weird diseases, or even the growing number of states falling for “medical” marijuana. Did anybody else see the first needle-less injection device was developed by a Massachusetts medical device company? Think Dr. McCoy on Star Trek type injections. Hsssss. There, you’re done. Take it from someone who routinely (as in several times a week) gets stuck with needles the size of Bic pen cartridges, this is different, in an exciting way even.

Wealth: Stocks hit record highs this year. Stocks hit record lows this year. Often on consecutive days. Wow! That’s amazing! No, that’s computers doing what they were told to do. When prices fall they are programmed to buy, buy, buy. When prices rise they are programmed to (altogether now) sell, sell, sell. And whether their clients make money or lose money, Duke and Duke get their commissions. (Extra points for identifying that reference.) In the meantime, everybody from Marriott Hotels to Under Armour’s fitness app was breached last year. According to the cyber security company Positive Technologies as reported by USA Today, “When it comes to data breaches, 2018 was neither the best of times nor the worst of times. It was more a sign of the times. Billions of people were affected by data breaches and cyberattacks in 2018 … with losses surpassing tens of millions of dollars.” Billions of people affected and it’s just a “sign of the times.” Oh if only that would be different.

CalendarEndBusiness: Sears is about to become a Jeopardy question. (This former retail giant introduced the Discover Card in 1985.) Sorry. Not news. Sears has been going out of business since the early 1990s. The big business news for 2018 that nobody noticed was that Starbucks opened a store in Jamaica. Jamaica man. In the very shadow of the Blue Mountains. If you are a coffee drinker and you aren’t familiar with Jamaica Blue Mountain Coffee you aren’t a real coffee drinker (or really a coffee drinker) (or really a real coffee drinker). If you aren’t a coffee drinker but your drinking tastes run more to White Russians, you might have experienced Jamaica Blue Mountain Coffee as the main ingredient of Tia Maria liqueur. Yes, Tia Maria in a White Russian, not that Kahlua stuff. Not even Starbucks house blend. That would be too different.

Food: Recalls, recalls, recalls. Lettuce was downright dangerous to eat in 2018. Sorry. That’s not my biggest story. Television ads take an interesting turn during the holiday season. I’ve noted before if you go just by what you see on TV during commercial breaks you’d think people never buy jewelry, wine, or liquor except in December and one week in February. It was a liquor ad that piqued my interest. A high end vodka pushed by a former high end actor proudly noted that it is certified Non-GMO. Excuse me, if you are drinking so much vodka you need to worry if it’s GMOed or not, you need to be drinking something different.

Crime: There were 338 mass shootings in America in 2018. There were 365 days in America in 2018. You do the math. Is it more disturbing there is a website that lists those occurrences or that there is an organization that rebuffs those numbers because the organization that generated the list includes wounded among the victims thus skewing the results? What would be different is if somebody actually did something besides generate new sympathy memes.

Should I take a stab at what 2019 will be like? Personally, I’d like to see something different. Happy New Year. Please.

 

Frozen in Time. Or Space. Or Neither?

Michael 3 Comments

I should be celebrating still. Last week was my birthday. A dozen years ago I’d still be celebrating a week later. No, that’s not accurate. “Still” makes it sound like I spent an entire week in revelry. Well, I was younger then. At least by 12 years. That would have made me 50 which contrary to the teachings of 30 and 40 year olds, is the age when one is truly still young enough to get into trouble but old enough to know better but not quite yet to not care. But no, not even those dozen years ago was I inclined to spend a full week in celebration of aging. So “still” is still not right. No. I should have said my birthday was last week and a dozen years ago I’d be celebrating it again.

“Still” might seem to make more sense than “again” but trust me, “again” is right. Of course, I’d be happy to explain.

A dozen years ago we’d have taken pictures. A week ago we also took pictures. A week ago, among the 20 or 4,000 pictures taken, I saw 4. Then, of the 12 or 15 taken I would have seen 12 or 15. But not for a week. A dozen years ago we were still taking pictures with analog cameras and film that required developing know how (or at least the corner drugstore).

Here’s what usually happened.  Regardless of whose birthday or anniversary or whatever and the actual date of aforementioned whatever, the celebration happened on Sunday. People worked during the week. (Actually I worked on Sundays also but that never seemed to alter the pattern.) (Hmm.) Pictures were taken, cake was cut, more pictures, gifts, more cake, more pictures, cake, pictures, wine, cake, pictures, etc., more pictures, wine, pictures. Film was rewound, removed from camera, and placed in prominent position to be dropped off for developing Monday morning. Monday film was forgotten due to Monday morning rush to get out the door. Tuesday film was forgotten due to it being Tuesday. Wednesday film forgotten due to everyone making bad camel jokes on the way out the door. Thursday film was remembered and taken to be developed! Decision making now entered the process. One hour, overnight, or standard. Couldn’t hang around for an hour and since we waited this long, what’s another day. Overnight please. Friday, now developed pictures forgotten due to TGIF. Saturday … ugh! Sunday, special trip made to pick up pictures, everybody gathers around, pictures passed about, celebration renewed!

More importantly, afterwards, sometimes weeks or months afterwards but eventually afterwards, the pictures were transferred to a photo album and placed on book shelf for future re-celebrations.

Last week, pictures were taken, phones passed around after any particularly good ones (four) then never seen again. [Sigh] But if you’re interested, you are welcome to come over and see pictures from my fiftieth. I know just where they are.

BD40Actually, this is from my fortieth. Seems I can’t find those from ten years later. I think we were using digital by then!

 

Low Seeded Life Lessons

Michael 2 Comments

If you’ve been anywhere near a TV set, radio, computer, or newspaper where they recognize college basketball as news, then you’ve heard about the big upset in the NCAA tournament last week. You’ll hear about here (read about it here?) too. But just for a little.

For the first time a number 16 (aka lowest regional) seed beat a number one regional seed. All the news outlets told that part of the story to everybody reading or listening. As impressive as that is there are some important things they left out that the underdog in question should be proud of or at least include in their press releases.

bracketEveryone in America can probably tell you that before this momentous occasion, the number one seeds had gone 135-0 in these first round games against number 16 seeds. Nobody mentioned that was the first time that happened in the 79 year history of the tournament. One can argue that there have not been 16 seeds for all those years. For the first 12 years there were only 8 teams invited to play in the tournament. The current four region, 64 team, 4 round format (excluding the 4 team preliminary play-in round) was initiated in 1985. Even so, that’s been 33 years, over 50% longer than most of the kids playing in the tournament have been alive.

The other thing everybody has mentioned is that the number one regional seed that lost was also the number one seed in the tournament, or the team determined to be the best in the field of 64 entering four round play. Nobody has mentioned that the number 16 seed that beat them so handily was the 63rd in the tournament, or the second worst of those 64 teams. (It almost makes you wish they were just a wee bit worse!)

There is one more thing the news people have been remiss in reporting. Everybody together now, name the school that lost that historic game. That’s right. Virginia. Technically the University of Virginia. Now, just as quickly, name the school that won. That’s ok, you can have a minute to think about that. Now that a few days have gone by you might need to refresh your memory. If you checked the headlines or listened to the reporters you might recall it was UMBC. And that stands for? Go ahead and take another minute. That’s right, the University of Maryland, Baltimore County.

So what’s the moral of the story? Keep working. No matter how long the odds, sometimes the dark horse wins. Don’t worry if the experts downplay your accomplishments. You know what you’ve done with what you were given to do it. And yes, you done good. (As they say.) And finally, even though nobody else may know who you are, what you do matters and that will always be remembered.

See, even in ongoing madness you can find some of life’s lessons learned. But then, it is supposed to be a college tournament.

 

Those Were The Days

Michael 1 Comment

I’ve been spending the past several evenings watching Bond, James Bond movies going all the way back to the first offering from 1962. I was reminded, happily reminded, of how courteous people were back then. Everyone dressed well, everyone said please and thank you, everyone treated each other with respect. If I hadn’t lived through it myself I would say this was a romanticized version of mid-century life, but it wasn’t. At least it wasn’t where I lived and that wasn’t London, or New York, or Kingston, Jamaica. Nor was it spent in high class casinos, private clubs, or Caribbean resorts. It was a dinky little steel mill town in Western Pennsylvania and people still dressed well, said please and thank you, and treated each other with respect. If it had been sunnier more days than it was it could have been the set of Leave It To Beaver.

I was just about to type that the movies are part of a month long festival of sorts courtesy of the Starz/Encore networks. That’s not quite true. The movies are indeed part of a month long Bond, James Bond celebration airing on the Starz/Encore channels but they are there to see courtesy of myself by way of my monthly cable bill. And I think that is part of why I miss those original days of Bond, James Bond. No, the cable channel wouldn’t have paid for my movies back then. We all know there wasn’t cable then. Movies were at the theater. Where you dressed for the day out, said “please” when asking for a ticket and “you’re welcome” in response to the “thank you” the cashier would cheerfully tell you. Where the movie, popcorn, soft drink, and bus fare to get there and back could be had for the dollar bill mom gave you and let you keep the change. Today that 1962 fifty cent movie is included as part of my $140 monthly cable bill. And I have to provide my own popcorn and drink.

MarqueeThe last time I went to a Bond, James Bond movie at a theater it cost me $9.50 and when I passed over my $20 bill I got a ticket, the wrong change, and a “there ya go.” When I pointed out the error I was rewarded with the insipid “my bad.” At the concession stand I spent $7.50 for a soft drink, the required purchase to redeem my FREE POPCORN! coupon, during a wordless transaction other than my “small popcorn and Sprite” at its beginning and my “thank you” at its conclusion. (I’m still not sure why I thank the seller when I purchase something. Please tell me I’m not the only one.)

Even ignoring the almost 27 fold increase in the monetary outlay, it wasn’t a pleasant experience. Oh it wasn’t unpleasant. Nobody tried to pick my pocket, the crowd in the cinema was mostly quiet, and I didn’t spill my sticky soft drink onto my lap. Conversely, nobody said “excuse me” as they climbed over the lady in the row in front of me to get to the only seats that would satisfy them, nobody apologized for knocking the sticky soft drink into the lap of the unfortunate lady who was climbed over, and almost everybody dashed out of the theater as if someone actually yelled fire at the movie’s end. The niceties that were there in Those Good Old Days weren’t there and probably will never return.

If you should be unfortunate enough to ever mention this, particularly if you ever mention this to someone whose only experience with those late-50s early-60s days were through old movies or syndicated reruns of the Beaver, you may be rebuked for your naiveté and wistful but obviously wrong recollection of a time that wasn’t. But for me it was, they were, and it still is not a bad thing to aspire.

And now I have to run to the store and pick up popcorn for tonight’s showing. If I’m lucky, I might find a coupon.

 

Hi, Confused to Meet You

Michael 8 Comments

This weekend a seminarian came to our church to start his year long spiritual internship as it were. At the end of the mass he stood on the altar and after introducing himself he said, “I’ll be at the back of the church and would like to meet all of you personally . I won’t remember all of your names but over the next year, I’ll try.” If it had been me saying that I would have made it “I won’t remember any of your names but over the next year I’ll forgot the couple that I accidentally had remembered. And it will probably at the absolute worst time.”

You see, of all the billions of data that I’ve committed to memory over all the years that I’ve been exposed to data, I can remember almost all of it, from every important work piece to the most useless of useless trivia. Except names. I tried all of the memory tricks. Use somebody’s name three times in the first 10 minutes of being introduced. Associate the name with some physical characteristic. Build a mnemonic that describes where and Forgotwhen you met that person. None of it worked. I even tried doing what I did to remember the billions of data that I did remember and is rolling around in my head. I just remembered. But it seems I’ve never been good with names. Why, it took me almost 4 years to learn my own mother’s name. And that’s most surprising since almost everybody’s mother’s name back then was Mommy.

So how did I manage to go through life with such a disconnect from the most personal of other people’s personal information? I guess I always had cheat sheets around. While in the army, everybody wore their name above their right pocket. As long as I didn’t mind to appear to be somewhat not all quite focused I could pass my eyes over their collar looking for rank, down to their pocket for surname and in one almost smooth motion would greet Captain Hook. In the hospitals and other medical facilities everyone wears name badges. Except for the few who inexplicably wore their identification cards on the hems of their shirts or jackets it was easy enough to spot the picture card and zero in on the name. At the college the entire clinical faculty was into wearing white jackets with their names stitched above the breast pocket. Except me. I didn’t care much for wearing consultation jackets while standing at the front of a lecture hall. It struck me as the same useless gesture as those who wear scrubs in a hospital yet never move from their desks in the administration wing except to go home.

When I didn’t have a visual cue to jolt me into name recognition I relied on the old standby. Everybody became “sir” or “ma’am.” Actually, that worked out quite well in my career ladder climb. People to whom I reported liked that I call to them with such politeness while everyone else junior to them tried to feign familiarity by beginning each conversation with “Well Bob,” or “If you have a minute Sue.” As I rose to have more who reported to me I continued with “sir” and “ma’am” and endeared my staff to me with my gentility while other department heads routinely referred to their crew as “the minions of 4 Central” or some similar certainly meant to be cute appellation.

So, my advice to you if you should ever become a seminarian assigned to your pastoral learning experience and don’t think you can remember everybody’s name before your year is up, do what I did. Don’t try. Make them all sirs and ma’ams. They’ll appreciate the courtesy. Or, you can just think of them all as useless trivia and you can probably commit a few billion names to memory. Just don’t let the pastor find out.

 

But it’s not supposed to happen to me!

Michael 1 Comment

Well, it happens to the best of us. So they say. Who are these they? Are they the best of us so they would know? Or are they like me? Those who this always happens to. I don’t know what I want to write about. No, not I don’t know. More like I can’t remember. Like, since about 10 hours ago.

I should have sat down and wrote it then. It was really a great topic. And I had just the right approach for it. It was something that happens to all of us (what they say notwithstanding) and something that I know everybody out there in Blogworld wouldn’t be able to wait to read. But just what it is (was?) I can’t remember. Sigh.

I did what I always do when I can’t remember something. Retrace my mental steps of the Questionday. Most of the time it will jog the brain cells sufficient to loosen the elusive thoughts but not today. What did I do today anyway?

I think I first came up with the “Now that’s blogworthy!” moment sometime around breakfast time. Could it have been something to do with breakfast. Not likely. All I had was some breakfast sausage and scrambled eggs with an English muffin, buttered and jellied. Nothing terribly blogworthy at that meal although I did manage to turn scrambled eggs into a decent sounding post once. (While we’re in the kitchen, do they call English muffins just muffins in England? And if so, what do you call just a muffin there?) (Inquiring minds and all that.)

After breakfast I read the paper, answered some e-mails, watered the herb pots, and did a crossword puzzle. Actually, I did four crossword puzzles. Other than those, my morning probably wasn’t much different from anybody’s. And I know whatever “it” was, “it” wasn’t crosswords. Although blogworthy, those too have already been a subject of the RRSB. So, not there.

Moving on I paid a few bills, put a birthday card in the mail (real card, real mail), took a walk, watched a hockey game. Hockey’s a big thing for me. Autographed pictures, pucks, programs, banners, and towels all have found a home somewhere on my walls and shelves. License plates and bumper magnets grace my car and a season ticket pass keeps my driver’s license company in my wallet. I like hockey. I’ve even said that everything I know about being a gentleman I learned from hockey. But it wasn’t that either.

So, I don’t know what I’m going to write abou…….wait! Now I remember. I think I’m going to save that idea for Thursday and just call today a miss. Sorry, but I don’t want to go through this twice in one week. So, I’ll just jot that down on a little post-it that I can stick to the monitor right there. And, there. Thursday is all taken care of. Whew.

So. Now. For today. Well….Have a nice day?