Memories; Light the corners of my mind...

I heard an interesting fact on NPR today. Evidently chess grandmasters can look at the positions of the pieces on a chess board at any point in a game, for about 5 seconds and commit the entire board and the positions of the pieces, to memory with about a 98% rate of accuracy. Pretty amazing, huh?

But, that’s not the whole story. If the pieces on that chessboard were RANDOMLY put on the board (instead of in a manner reflecting an actual chess match) the grandmaster’s recall of the board and the positions of the pieces is no better than that of us non-chess playing masses. The expert who presented this fact on NPR has come to the conclusion that the human mind is far more capable of remembering details, stories, and events, when they have a structure to them that is meaningful to us.

I’m wondering if that helps explain how I can run down to the basement primarily to grab a cold beer out of the refrigerator, see that I have laundry to bring upstairs, and make it all the way back upstairs, with the laundry, but sans the beer I went downstairs to grab in the first place.

Is some higher power sending a message that maybe I should drink less beer?

Am I beginning to experience senior moments? Too much on my mind?

Maybe I am having attacks of what a friend of mine had. He described his malady as ADOS (Attention Deficit, Oh Shiny). Attention deficit issues seem to be far more prevalent these days than when I was young. Used to be one had to go to school A LOT of years before you got initials after your name (MD, PhD, JD) now, kids seem to get letters like ADHD attached to their names at very young ages. But I digress.

I’m guessing that the cold beer just isn’t important enough to me so that it slips too easily from my memory.

Two days ago I was riding the bus home from work when I was enthusiastically greeted by a fellow commuter who used to play football at the U. His face was familiar, but I could NOT recall his name. We chatted about old times for about 5 minutes. After he departed I addressed a colleague of mine, who I ride the bus with everyday, and confessed; “I have NO idea what his name is.”

Yesterday a female passed me on the bus and said, “Hi Mr. Stroessner, …Betsy Cairns.” (not her real name – protecting the innocent like I promised) She was an old neighbor that I hadn’t seen in years. I sure appreciated the re-introduction. Again, I turned to my colleague, only this time I mentioned the fact that the woman was kind/smart enough to jog my memory with her name, whereas the man the previous day didn’t even think about it. (Venus v. Mars? Again, I digress)

I guess I just want you all to know that if I refer to you as ‘Buddy’, ‘Pal’, or ‘Guy’, it isn’t an indication that I’ve forgotten YOU or the good times we’ve probably shared, I just have never been good with names. Case in point, years ago I once used the old, “How do you spell your name?” question with someone who I had just recently met (but had already forgotten his name) only to be answered with a knowing smile and, “I know what you’re doing Todd, it’s JONES, J-O-N-E-S.” Ew snap! But we shared a good laugh over it.

Trust me, I’ve got many good memories of times spent with any and all who may read this. I cherish them all. Bob Dylan sums it up quite nicely with a lyric from his song, Mississippi, “… my heart is not weary, it’s light and it’s free, I’ve got nothing but affection for all those who sailed with me.”

The memories we share and who you are is meaningful to me, what your parents named you is not.

Who knew?