Recently I arrived for lunch at a busy downtown restaurant. Greeted pleasantly by the hostess, I explained I was meeting a friend, and I wished to be seated at a table while I waited. I was a couple of minutes late but Sally hadn’t yet arrived so I knew she’d join me momentarily.
Enjoying a glass of water and a chunk of warm bread, I settled into the sunny booth, observing the other diners and people strolling by outside the window. I perused the menu, wanting to be ready to order so Sally and I wouldn’t miss a moment of our annual “catching-up” lunch.
After a few minutes, I experienced an odd feeling. My friend was nowhere in sight. My eerily silent phone was in my purse. I decided to see if there was a message saying she was running behind.
Hmmm … no messages. By now it was 15 minutes after our meeting time. I gave her a quick call, and she picked up her home phone on the first ring. Well.
Originally we were scheduled to meet the previous week, but Sally had come down sick and messaged me to request that we reschedule to today. I messaged her back that I thought it was fine but I’d check my calendar and get back to her.
I checked the calendar. All clear. I added “11:30 lunch with Sally” to the proper day on the calendar. And messaged her back.
Or so I thought.
That’s right … a quick check of my “sent” messages showed I’d never communicated that the rescheduled date would work for me. Oops.
Now I confess to being a bit forgetful lately. Nothing alarming, just more of a nuisance kind of thing. Of course I am in deep denial about it all. Me, absent minded?
“That’s ridiculous!” I huffed to my spouse as I sprinkled dog kibble onto our salads. Ummm … Did this mean I just served croutons to the dog?
Sure, we all walk into a room and wonder why we’re there or we misplace our keys or forget to jot down something on our grocery list. Even for my 30-something daughters, this is a natural occurrence. But for me, because my mother was a victim of early-onset Alzheimer’s disease, forgetfulness rattles me a little more than perhaps it should.
This always leads me to the inevitable question: With computers gaining ever more available memory, why is it somebody hasn’t figured out a way to “re-boot” our brains and add just a few more gigabytes of storage?
Forty years ago, when my spouse and I were engaged, we visited the priest at my church. Since my soon-to-be husband was non-Catholic, we had to go through some extra preparations. The gentle priest, who was probably younger than I am today, was struggling to recall something he wanted to impart to us. He remarked it was no fun “getting old,” meaning his brain wasn’t operating the way it once did.
“It’s just saturated,” remarked my soon-to-be husband to the priest, conveying the thought that Father’s brain was undoubtedly bursting with wisdom and insight by now.
“You’re very kind,” the priest answered.
I’ve never forgotten that “saturation” business. Perhaps I’d need to recall that concept some day. Like, um … today, sitting at the restaurant waiting for Sally who had never heard from me confirming our new lunch date.
Apologizing to the staff for the inconvenience of setting a table where I took up space for several minutes during a busy lunch service, I ordered a salad to go and settled my bill. They couldn’t have been nicer and even set a reservation for us for the following week. Now that’s optimism!
Chatting with Sally later, we laughed at the memory mishap and looked forward to lunch the following week. “So much for our ‘golden years,’” I said to Sally.
“Yes, our ‘golden years’ are a bit tarnished,” she sighed.
Well, maybe. But, then again, perhaps not. Perhaps, like my priest so many years ago, our minds are so full of wisdom and insight, they are simply trending toward saturation. Yep, saturation! That’s the ticket!
Gale Hammond is a writer and freelance photographer who has lived in Morgan Hill since 1983. Reach her at
ga***************@ya***.com
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