How I Cope with My Most Excellent Memory

I have misplaced small objects for six decades, but last Saturday I misplaced my bicycle. “Have you seen my bicycle around here? I asked my wife.

“No. Is it missing?

“I rode it yesterday. It must be here.”

“Where have you looked?”

“I checked my desk drawers and the kitchen cabinet. That’s where I often misplace things.”

“Have you looked in the garage?”  

“We have a garage?” I asked.

Last Monday I parked at the Pike Place Market. When I returned from shopping, my keys were not in the usual pocket. I patted my pants pockets with one hand but found no keys. I have a Tile on my key ring that, when notified by an iPhone app, make noises. As I tried to grab my iPhone, I realized my keys were in that hand.

I am two weeks younger than Joe Biden. Within my gender and age group, I contend my memory is above average.

• I remember that the Seljuk Turks trounced the Byzantines at the Battle of Manzikert in 1071.

• I remember that the Shangri-Las met the leader of the pack at the candy store, and if you’ve a date in Constantinople, she’ll be waiting in Istanbul.

• I remember that Matt Batts was the backup catcher for the Boston Red Sox in the early 1950s, and that John Sparkman and Estes Kefauver were Adlai’s Stevenson’s running mates in 1952 and 1956.

I admit having troubles with names. I attribute this to the sharp decline in encountering acquaintances as I age. I then rationalize that one of us will soon be dead, so who cares.

I never forget the names of people I see frequently – my wife and family, internist, cardiologist, physical therapist, oncologist, ophthalmologist, colorectal surgeon, and my orthopedic surgeon, and orthopedist. One bills me three times for each procedure

I use cutting edge technology and mnemonic methods to compensate for age-appropriate memory loss. When I say, “Alexa, start my day,” she recites the weather forecast, my day’s appointments, and my to-do list. I remember to ask Alexa about once or twice a week. I use rhyme mnemonics, like “Thirty days has September.” For Stevenson’s running mates, “knee clover” rhymes with Kefauver.

Visualization is an even more potent memory aid. First, I visualize forgetting to make hotel reservations. Then I visualize failing to take my shirts to the cleaner. Then I visualize thinking today is Monday when it is actually Tuesday. Then I visualize omitting sausages on my grocery list. Then I visualize neglecting to take an umbrella in case of rain. Then I visualize trying to recall the author of the epic “The Aeneid.” Then I visualize not showing up for a spleen transplant because I did not look at my calendar.

Today, around noon, I will visualize my awakening this morning, to recall if I did.