Sometimes that’s the way the mind works, and I don’t understand why. An extreme example: My father died at age 95 in a nursing home. In his last months I visited him every other day and got him talking about past events in his life. It comforted him.
He could tell me detailed stories of things that occurred 90 years previous but could not remember what he had for dinner or the therapy he had a few hours ago. It was if small blocks of memory were too insignificant to retain.
I’m starting to get that way now, as if my “search engine” is uncooperative. Sometimes going through the alphabet helps by snagging on a key word that drags the memory fully up from the depths.
I wish I could defrag my mind — but what obscure bits of memory might be unexpectedly important?
Sometimes that’s the way the mind works, and I don’t understand why. An extreme example: My father died at age 95 in a nursing home. In his last months I visited him every other day and got him talking about past events in his life. It comforted him.
He could tell me detailed stories of things that occurred 90 years previous but could not remember what he had for dinner or the therapy he had a few hours ago. It was if small blocks of memory were too insignificant to retain.
I’m starting to get that way now, as if my “search engine” is uncooperative. Sometimes going through the alphabet helps by snagging on a key word that drags the memory fully up from the depths.
I wish I could defrag my mind — but what obscure bits of memory might be unexpectedly important?