My memory only fails me when I forget something

         At 72, I am entitled to have memory lapses, and age is a great excuse for forgetting things. If you’re younger than I am and you forget stuff, you probably can’t wait to get old. You can forget the birthdays of people closest to you and be forgiven. Saves a lot of money too, because it’s even easier to forget to pick up a belated card or gift.

           Memory is funny. I’m sure there are experts who can explain why we remember some things and forget others. When I reconnected with my friend Jerry in Facebook, he reminisced about how we met in first grade. “Uh-uh,” I told him. “In first grade I was in PS 68. We didn’t meet until second grade.” Our teacher was Miss Santangelo, and she pulled hair. “Oh, that’s right,” Jerry said. “You have a better memory than I do — I must be getting old.” Right. Jerry’s ten months older. See? Blaming it on age.

           I remember my first telephone number (FL4-5231) and I remember there were no such things as area codes yet. I remember my air force serial number after 50 years, and I’ve never forgotten my social security number.

           But how often do I think of something I need to do in the kitchen and get up to go do it, and when I get to the kitchen I’ve forgotten what it was I wanted to do? Or how often have I put down a tape measure and then forgotten where I put it a few minutes later? Or how often have I put something important in a safe place and then forgotten exactly where that safe place was?

           I don’t have a bag of tricks for remembering things. I can leave myself a note reminding me of where that safe place was, but then I’d have to remember where I put the note. Leaving myself a note about where I put down the tape measure seems silly. Where notes come in handy is when I get an idea for something while I’m in the store and I scribble a few key words on the back of my shopping list. If I remember what the key words mean, I’m good to go. I do this when I get an idea for something I want to write, or when I think of something I want to Google. Generally the only time this fails me is when I can’t read my writing.

           I had an ending for this column all roughed out in my head, but I went into the kitchen for a glass of water, and by the time I got back I forgot what it was. I suppose I could have left a note, but I forgot to do that too. I must be getting old.

I heart Valentine’s Day

           I’ve always been amazed at how ready people are to love things. I love pizza, I love the movies. They even express their love on bumper stickers. Seems like every other car you wind up behind, someone is announcing “I heart” something or other on their bumper, the heart being a cutesy symbol for you-know-what. Love is such a precious and unique emotion that it somehow doesn’t seem right to express love for schnauzers or Ben & Jerry’s ice cream with the same fervor as for a soulmate. In my humble opinion, there are no degrees of love any more than there are degrees of being pregnant.

           Love isn’t the only expression of affection you’ll see on a bumper. “Have you hugged” something today is popular. The first one like that I ever saw said, “Have you hugged a lawyer today?” Now I happened to know that the woman whose van sported that bumper sticker was married to a lawyer, and so I got why she hugged a lawyer. But I wonder how she would have felt if every woman who saw that sticker rushed up and hugged her husband.

           And lawyers aren’t the only ones people hug. People will ask motorists if they’ve hugged their kids today, even though not everyone has kids. Then there’s one asking if you’ve hugged a farmer. Now that’s a sentiment I can support, but if you live in Manhattan you’d have to drive a good distance before you can deliver that hug. Not that farmers from Vermont never visit Manhattan, but how would you find them? That would be like trying to find a needle in a farmer’s haystack. However, if you live in Brooklyn and a bumper sticker asks if you’ve hugged a tree today, you’re in luck because trees actually do grow there. Prospect Park is full of them.

           Dogs are not only loved — you can get a bumper sticker hearting almost every breed known to man — they are hugged. But one bumper sticker I saw asks “Have you hugged your horse today?” Who has a horse? Bumper stickers ask if you’ve hugged an inanimate object — your fiddle, for instance (although I don’t recommend it if it’s a Stradivarius, for obvious reasons). One I saw asked, “Have you hugged a cactus today?” A definite “no” there.

           As Valentine’s Day approaches, I’m trying to remember if I’ve ever seen a bumper sticker that said “I heart my wife” or husband or sweetheart, or mother, although I have seen bumper stickers that said “I heart my cat,” or “I heart tacos.” If someone I cared deeply about had publicly expressed love for fast food but not for me, I’d be a little hurt. When you heart someone, you should take every opportunity to let them — and the world — know it.