BURGER COLUMN: Forgetting what to remember

I don't remember when I started to forget.

Somewhere north of 50, I realized I couldn't remember more than two things my wife asked me to pick up at the grocery store.

Milk and eggs I could handle. But if the list increased to milk, eggs and a can of soup, I was in trouble. I had to write it down or I'd end up calling home to ask what the third thing was, or wandering down endless aisles, staring at the shelves, hoping for inspiration.

When I was younger, I could rattle off a laundry list of things I had to do, people's phone numbers, addresses, and things I needed to pick up on the way home.

Now, I can't remember the way home.

Ketchup bottle

Truth is, we all start slipping a little as we get older.

The worst case scenario is the onset of Alzheimer's, a dreadful disease that robs us of our precious memories. But usually, we just need a gentle nudge.

My dear mother used to put things in the middle of her living room floor to jog her memory about something she needed to remember. Then, she admitted, she would stand there for five minutes trying to figure out why in the world there was a ketchup bottle in the middle of the floor.

And we all have a problem remembering names. I might meet 50 people a week. I hardly ever forget a face, but names can be little slippery.

So if I call you Bubba, or Darling, that's a hint that I don't remember your name and could really use a clue.

Three-thing list

Sometimes it's not that I can't remember, it's that I'm easily distracted.

Like between the kitchen and the bedroom. I'll leave one room of the house to do something in another room of the house, then can't remember why I went in there.

An aging friend said he began announcing his intentions out loud to his wife so when he forgot what he was doing she could remind him. Assuming of course, she was listening.

Sometimes, I give my wife that blank look when she starts talking about something or somebody. That's when she accuses me of not listening to her. Truth is, I saw her lips moving, but my mind hadn't changed gears from whatever I was thinking about to whatever she was talking about.

I usually click in about the time she says, "So what do you think?"

That's when I panic. I remember she started out talking about somebody she knew in college, but then there was also something about Costco.

"You weren't listening were you?" she asks accusingly.

"Yeah, sure," I mumble. "I totally agree with everything you said."

Next thing I know, I'm on the way to Costco, with a three-thing list, and a map to make sure I get home safely.

Reach Ken Burger at kburger@postandcourier.com or 937-5598 or on Twitter at www.twitter.com/Ken_Burger.