O Memory, Thy Name is Wife

At 42 it is all the rage to exaggerate one’s growing number of aging symptoms to prove actual aging. Being one prone to self-deprecation only increases my opportunities to point out my daily plights with getting older. 

• Phantom hairs growing where they never grew before.
• Missing hairs on my shins and calves from years of wearing dress socks that have left what looks like a Flesh Sock.
• Sounding like a message in Morse code from all the clicking and popping my knees make as I walk up the stairs.  (I translated it one time and I think I spelled out “The squash is bumpy”)
• Praying every time I have a sore joint that it isn’t gout.  Cause that’s some “Old man shit” right there.
• Standing in a crowded venue for a long time with my back killing me not because sitting on the ground would be inappropriate but watching my big ass get up would just be cruel to those in attendance.

You get the point. But, all that pales in comparison to losing my memory.

Let me clarify a bit.  I think if you ask most people who know me they would tell you I have a better than average memory.  If you ask my wife she would probably tell you that I am borderline disabled and might even be eligible for government assistance.  Why such a disconnect?

My friends will tell you that I retain an absurd amount of information about movies, history, news, politics etc. and that’s probably true.  My wife will tell you (in all honesty) if you put a gun to my head right now it is no better than a 50/50 chance I could tell you my own parent’s birthdays.  I know my children’s birthdays but I have to think about the years whenever I’m filling out forms.  I know one of my niece’s birthdays only because it is the day before my daughters.  The rest of the family is screwed.  If I ever meet you in public and call you any of the following “Chief, Big Man, Wild Dog, Young Man, Stranger or Hank” there is a better than average chance I’ve forgotten your name, not always but a good chance. 

 It’s not from lack of trying.  I have dealt with people and customers my entire life.  I have attempted to improve my memory.  Name Association, taking copious notes, memory games none of it ever stuck.  I used to be able to hold lots of info for short periods of time.  Cramming for a test always worked.  When I was a waiter in college I never had to write anything down on tables up to 8 people.  Now, I go to the store for three items.  I come home with four items and none of the three I went to get.  It’s a miracle I make it home. 

Luckily, I married Shelli.  Every detail of our lives is stored in her gorgeous cranium. The precision and detail of the information she retains boggles my mind.  Every birthday, anniversary and graduation date of brothers, sisters, nieces, nephews, aunts, uncles, in-laws and grandparents is methodically stored and filed neatly away.  I’ve looked to see if she keeps a book but she doesn’t.  Occasionally she may transfer some data from her RAM to her hard drive but it is always readily accessible.

 

She is also a scheduling machine.  Anyone and I mean anyone who has known me more than 6 months knows never ask me about scheduling ANYTHING. First of all I am inclined to always answer yes. 

Are you guys free on the 8^th?...........Sure.

Are you guys going to be in town on Labor Day? ............. Absolutely.

Then I usually forget to mention it to Shelli.  If I do mention it I get a huge eye roll and am reminded that it is impossible for us to attend because of the baseball, soccer, rowing, reunion, church, birthday, surgery or any of the hundred other events that I had obviously forgotten about even though I was told about it a month ago.  The woman has school calendars laced into the membrane of her cerebral cortex. Every holiday fires off a color coded neuron blast in her brain. And I like it. Don't get me wrong I was first attracted to Shelli cause I like leggy blondes. Now add juggling the upcoming summer schedules while considering Girl Scout Camp, 2  Art Camps, Guitar Camp, 2 Church Service Projects, Holidays, Family Vacations,at least one family reunion, Swim Meets and a City Swim Meet and doing it 3 months ahead of time. SEXY doesn't even begin to describe it. The woman takes my breath away.

They say a good marriage relies on partners having complimenting strengths and weaknesses.  That is absolutely true with us.  I love to cook.  Shelli doesn’t.  I am an extrovert.  Shelli is significantly more reserved.  I fly by the seat of my pants and Shelli plans and insures our family's survival.  I recall insignificant details of a movie I saw once 30 years ago and Shelli recalls all the important dates of our families and loved ones.  I can recite the 50 states in alphabetical order and Shelli can keep our house running like a Swiss watch.  I…….You know, I’m pretty sure I had a point but I’ve already forgotten it.