Sixties Chick

There has been much said recently among the people I know about memory. Or rather the loss of it. It was the topic of conversation at an otherwise very upbeat Christmas party just last week. My friend Ken recounted that recently he had gone up the stairs of his house three times and had forgotten each time what he had gone up for. Aside from the exercise it afforded him, he found it worrisome. Ken’s a pretty rational, level headed New Englander, not given to speculation, but he believes that Teflon is the culprit. I had never heard that one before, but as a writer, I like the idea. It is poetic.

Another friend whose name escapes me at the moment, stated that she now begins every story with the warning “Stop me if I’ve already told you this.” When it was my turn, I skipped the more commonplace incidents like “boiling the pot along with the eggs” or “forgetting the dog outside on the porch.” Instead, I shared that on my way to Wegmans a few weeks before, three quarters of the way there while stopped at a red light on Main Street, I was suddenly unable to remember where I was going. Was it the bank, the liquor store, the post office? I ran through the list of possibilities. Unlike Ken, I see the years of filling rolling papers and bongs as the probable cause. But that’s another story.

Thankfully I recovered before the light changed and realized that I was headed for the supermarket and, most probably and very shortly, for dementia as well. I had the thought, however, that if indeed dementia was to be my destiny, it might not be all that bad. At least, I wouldn’t know I had it. Aside from the notion of ignorance as bliss, there might be other benefits as well.

One such benefit, I figure,  is an ongoing clean slate. The chance to begin again…and again. And again. Who doesn’t love that? And this brings me to the New Year. As I create my list for 2009 of those things I’d like to be and do in the New Year, I think back to this very same time last year. What, I wonder, did I commit to for 2008? What did I aspire to just one year ago?

Not surprising, I can’t remember this either. I suppose there was the usual – “eat better,” “exercise more,” “meditate daily” and “finish the book.” With a somewhat vague assessment of goals I’ve forgotten, I guess I did ok. Surely, I could have done better.  Aren’t I still working on the book? No matter, tabula rasa means possibility abounds. Reason to hope. This year, with the blessing of being able to start anew once again, here are my resolutions. For 2009, I’d like to remember to be kind rather than right. To stay out of fear. To quiet down and go inside for the answers. To dance often. And lest I forget, to finish the damn book.

And yours?

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