Remembering That, but not This

In the past few years I am having a problem, and I am assuming the whole baby boomer generation in general, is having this problem too. And the problem is . . . wait a minute it is on the tip of my tongue . . . I’ll have it in a minute . . . the problem of . . . uh . . . oh, yeah, short term memory loss.

Anyway this problem of short term memory loss is becoming commonplace among the baby boomer generation. I just read last week in the newspaper . . . or was it a newsweek magazine? It may have been on television last night . . . or maybe even last week. Ah, shit! I don’t remember.

The point is, I am one of those baby boomers. As a matter of fact, the year I was born was considered the first wave of the post WWII boom, when all the GI’s came home from the war and started families. I am on the cutting edge of the baby boomers, meaning I am going to be one of the first people to experience the problem of . . . of . . . uh . . . swollen hemorrhiodal . . . no that’s not it! Uh, short term memory loss. Yes.

I am not certain what concerns me more, the thing I have trouble remembering, or the actual things that I DO remember. It actually is somewhat scary.

I remember Broderick Crawford on the old Highway Patrol T.V. show. I remember Sgt. Joe Friday (Jack Webb) and his original partner (before Harry Morgan) was officer Frank Smith and was played by Ben Alexander. But I can’t remember the last three movies I saw this month.

I can remember all of my teachers from elementary school from 1st grade onto the 6th, (Anderson, Ronnigan, Thompson, Sillers, Kent, and Albrecht). But I can’t remember the names of the people in my writers group.

I can remember every phone number I ever had growing up all the way back to the four digit party lines, but have trouble with my fiance’s number. I don’t know it by heart.

I can remember the six players who hit home runs when my dad took brother Curly and I to a Chicago Cubs game when I was only 12. (Joe Adcock, Eddie Mathews, Del Crandel, Johnny Logan, Ron Santo, and Ernie Banks.) But I can’t remember who played in last years world series.

I remember that Mannix’ secretary name was Carol. (Remember Mannix?) But sometimes I don’t remember to feed the dog unless he drags his dish in front of me.

I can remember every single car my dad owned starting with a 1947 Chevy, but sometimes I can’t remember where I parked my own car.

It scares me a little that I can recall the six kids who were at my eighth birthday party, the entire song we sang at the school program in the second grade and every starting basketball lineup from my old high school from 7th grade all through high school but I forget to fill my gas tank or remember a doctor’s appointment.

It is a good thing I don’t have any kids at home any more. Can you imagine what that would be like? “You probably don’t remember but you said you would double my allowance,” or “You remember how you extended my curfew don’t you?” Ask me anything that happened more than 50 years ago, but don’t ask who my neighbors are.

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