It is a pleasant afternoon, family or friends enjoying conversation when at one point, no one can recall the name of a 90’s R&B singer or the star of an action pic from a few years ago.
There is joshing about the fact that no one remembers the name. And I jokingly say, “Please…, sometimes I can’t remember what it was that I forgot yesterday.”
One of the younger people says, “What?” Or sports a blank look, baffled about what I said. However, someone fifty years or older thinks about it for a moment; then breaks into a smile before beginning to laugh. After all, my comment makes perfect sense to them. The quirks of the older brain and what I call the precious archive is very familiar.
I visualize the archive, a space full to bursting with data and images, and who knows what else. I’ll leave the physiology of it all to be described by psychiatrists and researchers. I am just thankful that so far if I need to recall a particle, block, or snippet of information, as in this example, a celebrity’s name, my brain has tucked it away for safekeeping. After all, why keep seldom accessed information in space better applied elsewhere. That is how I choose to regard the brain at this stage of my life. A comparison, I believe, is the many archives housed in impressive buildings throughout the world. A visit seeking data would require you to wait as a search begins, and upon finding, perhaps a bit of dusting.
So I am patient as the cells spin or whatever they do, confident that what is out of reach at this moment will soon be found. It just might pop up before my thirty-year-old friend has a chance to shout out the answer.
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