On Memory:

What was I talking about? Oh Yah, remembering things.

I have never been good at names. And not just people, things too. Whatchamacallit’s (what-cha-ma-call-it’s) and thingamagig’s (thing-a-ma-gig’s) grace the landscape of my house. There are whosit’s (who‘s-it’s), whatsit’s (whats-it’s) and thingamabob’s (thing-a-ma-bob’s) galore. I have even been reduced to calling objects ‘It’ ‘that’ or ‘thing’ while pointing.

This is quite annoying and frustrating to me. Still I hear the titter of laughter of others daily as I struggle for the right word to come out of my mouth. I say things like. “I do know what I’m talking about, really.” And or I go into lengthy descriptions of said item, like. “The blue thing over our heads, we breathe it, and the sun comes up in it every day. You know what I’m talking about the, the, the, somebody help me here, please.”

I know how to do many complicated things. Making many kinds of lace and computers comes to mind. I can even walk and chew gum at the same time. But don’t expect me to remember your name.

What was the point I was getting at again? Right. What brought this about is that I have a large handbag and I was digging for coupons when the checker said, “I never understood why some people have to carry around so much stuff. Is it a security blanket thing?”

I looked down at my bag and said, “Not for me. For me it is a communication tool. I have flash cards and pictures I can point to so I can talk to people without it escalating into a game of Charades.”

She laughed. But I was sincere. How else do you communicate with others when your tongue doesn’t work right. Oh, I spent years learning sign language only to find most everyone else out there is clueless. I did meet some very nice deaf people thou I couldn’t tell you their names.

Now I’m getting a backache from carrying around my, you know, that thing you put things in to take with you. It hangs on a strap from your shoulder. Makeup, cell phone, flash cards….