Memory
19/04/13 05:25
I recently had a dream in which I was unable to remember my grandson’s name. I woke before the dream had developed much, but there was a distinct discomfort associated with the dream. I think of myself as living without much fear, but I guess that somewhere inside of me there is a fear of losing my memory.
The fear may come from experiences that I have working with people. I visit a man several times each week who is in the hospital and who is frequently confused. His confusion may have its roots in a fall that he took. It was the initial cause of his admission to the hospital. It may also be aggravated by the simple fact that he has been in the hospital for a long time. Days and nights tend to blur in the busyness of the institution that is continually in motion. When one lives with the routine of the hospital for a long time, sleeping at different times of the day and the night, spending more time than usual in bed and seeing the same scene outside of your room day after day, it is hard to keep track of the days. In a way it doesn’t surprise me that he recently answered, “March,” when asked what month it is. Even though it now is April, it was March when he was admitted to the hospital. The fact that he got the year wrong by more than ten years, however, was enough to worry me. He did answer correctly when asked who the President of the United States is. Television has been in his room enough that he has some sense of connection with events and activities in other parts of the world. Since current news is frequently distressing to me, I wonder how much of what he sees on the television is unpleasant for him.
It is just one story. We have plenty of opportunities to witness persons whose memories do not serve as faithfully as once was the case. There are many different names for different kinds of dementia and many different causes for these disorders. Alzheimer’s Disease has gotten a lot of attention in the media in recent years, but it is just one disease that has, among other effects, a heartbreaking loss of memory. We used to simply use the term “senility” for any signs of confusion exhibited by our elders and accepted it as a natural part of the aging process. But we know that some of these tragic diseases are not natural.
Elie Wiesel explores the tragic aspects of memory loss in a powerful novel, “The Forgotten.” One of the central characters of the book is a distinguished psychotherapist and holocaust survivor. He is losing his memory because of an incurable disease. He resolves to tell his son about his past and his son undertakes a journey to the Romanian village where his father used to live. The story of a gravedigger, the discovery of the grave of his grandfather, and other events help to bind the generations even though some of the memories appear to be forever lost.
I could recount story after story about the loss of memory and readers of this blog have their own experiences with those who have experienced loss of memory due to disease and other causes. It can be a deep tragedy.
We are afraid of losing our memories.
The capacity to remember and to share those memories with others is one thing that distinguishes humans from other creatures. While it is true that other creatures carry shared memories in their genetics, humans appear to be unique in our ability to carry consciousness of stories from one generation to another. The stories of our people have their origins thousands of years in the past. We share psalms and scriptures that our people have been telling one another for generation after generation. Our common memory is far more vast than the memories of any individual.
This is not only true of Biblical stories. The fairy tales that we tell have their origins in antiquity as well. There are many stories that have been told over and over for so long that we don’t know their origins. We humans have the ability to pass on stories from one generation to another.
I suppose that should be a bit reassuring for me. Even if I lose my memory, there is a collective memory that is deeper and stronger than any individual. The truths that I have encountered are not mine alone, but rather belong to many generations of our people.
One of the joys of aging is the simple fact that there are a lot of memories. Our minds sift and sort the memories and, for the most part, pleasant memories come to the top. When I think back, I realize that I have been witness to incredible beauty, great courage, deep love, powerful faith, and undying hope. I have memories of some of the best of humanity. Were I to suffer a disability that left me unable to get around or incapable of seeing or hearing, I would still have my memories. And my memory contains not just my own experiences, but the stories of others as well.
But were I to lose my memory, there would be deep grief. My memories are my friends. I dwell with them in joy and I recall them with great pleasure.
I have not lived my life in fear and I have no intention of doing so now. I am content to allow my future to unfold in ways that will surprise me. I have no need to know what lies ahead. And I am sure that God will grant me some degree of grace in facing whatever comes. Since, however, I do not want to lose my memory, I try to exercise it regularly. I read the articles about what we can do to prevent memory loss. I am aware of the role of remaining physically active in preserving memory. I try to be careful with what I eat. I work puzzles and exercise my memory regularly.
And, I suppose, if all else fails, I do have a huge collection of blog posts that I can read. One advantage of not being able to remember would be the ability to read the same thing over and over again without getting bored.
The fear may come from experiences that I have working with people. I visit a man several times each week who is in the hospital and who is frequently confused. His confusion may have its roots in a fall that he took. It was the initial cause of his admission to the hospital. It may also be aggravated by the simple fact that he has been in the hospital for a long time. Days and nights tend to blur in the busyness of the institution that is continually in motion. When one lives with the routine of the hospital for a long time, sleeping at different times of the day and the night, spending more time than usual in bed and seeing the same scene outside of your room day after day, it is hard to keep track of the days. In a way it doesn’t surprise me that he recently answered, “March,” when asked what month it is. Even though it now is April, it was March when he was admitted to the hospital. The fact that he got the year wrong by more than ten years, however, was enough to worry me. He did answer correctly when asked who the President of the United States is. Television has been in his room enough that he has some sense of connection with events and activities in other parts of the world. Since current news is frequently distressing to me, I wonder how much of what he sees on the television is unpleasant for him.
It is just one story. We have plenty of opportunities to witness persons whose memories do not serve as faithfully as once was the case. There are many different names for different kinds of dementia and many different causes for these disorders. Alzheimer’s Disease has gotten a lot of attention in the media in recent years, but it is just one disease that has, among other effects, a heartbreaking loss of memory. We used to simply use the term “senility” for any signs of confusion exhibited by our elders and accepted it as a natural part of the aging process. But we know that some of these tragic diseases are not natural.
Elie Wiesel explores the tragic aspects of memory loss in a powerful novel, “The Forgotten.” One of the central characters of the book is a distinguished psychotherapist and holocaust survivor. He is losing his memory because of an incurable disease. He resolves to tell his son about his past and his son undertakes a journey to the Romanian village where his father used to live. The story of a gravedigger, the discovery of the grave of his grandfather, and other events help to bind the generations even though some of the memories appear to be forever lost.
I could recount story after story about the loss of memory and readers of this blog have their own experiences with those who have experienced loss of memory due to disease and other causes. It can be a deep tragedy.
We are afraid of losing our memories.
The capacity to remember and to share those memories with others is one thing that distinguishes humans from other creatures. While it is true that other creatures carry shared memories in their genetics, humans appear to be unique in our ability to carry consciousness of stories from one generation to another. The stories of our people have their origins thousands of years in the past. We share psalms and scriptures that our people have been telling one another for generation after generation. Our common memory is far more vast than the memories of any individual.
This is not only true of Biblical stories. The fairy tales that we tell have their origins in antiquity as well. There are many stories that have been told over and over for so long that we don’t know their origins. We humans have the ability to pass on stories from one generation to another.
I suppose that should be a bit reassuring for me. Even if I lose my memory, there is a collective memory that is deeper and stronger than any individual. The truths that I have encountered are not mine alone, but rather belong to many generations of our people.
One of the joys of aging is the simple fact that there are a lot of memories. Our minds sift and sort the memories and, for the most part, pleasant memories come to the top. When I think back, I realize that I have been witness to incredible beauty, great courage, deep love, powerful faith, and undying hope. I have memories of some of the best of humanity. Were I to suffer a disability that left me unable to get around or incapable of seeing or hearing, I would still have my memories. And my memory contains not just my own experiences, but the stories of others as well.
But were I to lose my memory, there would be deep grief. My memories are my friends. I dwell with them in joy and I recall them with great pleasure.
I have not lived my life in fear and I have no intention of doing so now. I am content to allow my future to unfold in ways that will surprise me. I have no need to know what lies ahead. And I am sure that God will grant me some degree of grace in facing whatever comes. Since, however, I do not want to lose my memory, I try to exercise it regularly. I read the articles about what we can do to prevent memory loss. I am aware of the role of remaining physically active in preserving memory. I try to be careful with what I eat. I work puzzles and exercise my memory regularly.
And, I suppose, if all else fails, I do have a huge collection of blog posts that I can read. One advantage of not being able to remember would be the ability to read the same thing over and over again without getting bored.