I never used to think about short term memory, or long term memory for that matter.  It seemed to me, when I was younger, that memory was just the things we remember, period.  Then, as I became older, and I heard the adults talking around me making reference to these two types of memory, I became just a little bit curious about it.  But then, I soon forgot about it. (Ha. Ha.)

In my middle years I remember being able to recall information about many people including their phone numbers, where they lived and what they did for a living.  My memory skills were fabulous and it made me a valuable member of many community groups in which I played a part. My long and short term recollection of facts and figures never let me down.

Then, after the sudden death of my 21 year old son, even my working memory vanished.  My bereavement counselor, who had experienced the same tragedy, told me that with unexpected death, especially of a child, it’s like there is an explosion in the brain and that pieces are strewn all over.  I recall forgetting a close family member’s name at the funeral home. It was awful. Finally, after time passed, I recovered enough of my memory to feel a part of things again.

Later, as I have become a senior citizen, I am experiencing, once again, the loss of memory.  This time, it is of the short term variety. It is exasperating to leave the bathroom and not be sure if I put lotion on my face, put my deodorant on, or whether I combed my hair in the back.  Did I lock the door? Where did I put my second pair of glasses, when the screw comes out of the ones I am wearing? I go looking for my watch after I just put it on. And I search the house looking for my phone while I am talking on it to a friend.

It has become a problem that is sometimes hard to deal with.  Luckily, my friends and family still like me just the way I am.  I think it is all part of life that we must accept. And then, we will have to hope that the people who love us will watch over us when it becomes too difficult,  So be kind to the people in your life now so they do not leave you alone when you need help. Life is short. We just need to remember that short term memory will not last forever.

Many years ago, I was taking a class in Sign Language.  My teacher was fantastic. One day he demonstrated how the word “run” could be signed in many different ways. He signed a made-up story using the meaning of “run” as a word or in a phrase in the proper context.  So, even though the word “run” was in a sentence, the sign for “run” was only used when it meant to physically run, as in a race. For example, “run for office,”“run amok,” and “a run in one’s hose,” are just a few examples of them in the story that he signed.

This reminded me of a student I worked with who was hearing impaired.  She wore hearing aids, but she was from China and English was her second language. I was there to make sure she understood what was being said by the teacher.  But that was not much of a problem because she sat directly in front of the teacher and she was smart as a whip.

The problem for her was the fact that she didn’t know all of the different definitions one word could have.  She would ask me, “Doesn’t (word) mean (definition of said word)?” To which I would reply, “Yes, but it also means (definition), and (definition) and (definition).  At this point, she would throw up her hands and say, “Aaack, English!”

There are so many instances of how language, throughout time, has acquired new context when originally there may have only been one way of saying something.  Slang is so much a part of American English that the original meaning of a word may not even be common knowledge. And slang changes constantly. This happens in each generation and the slang used at a certain time may not even be understood by any other generation but its own.

I think that all of these things contribute to the fact that the English language is a passion for me.  Putting a sentence together is pure pleasure when I am writing a letter, an email a text or this blog. Choosing just the “right” word in a sentence can mean everything in communicating the message you are sending to that specific person or audience.  The need to communicate begins at birth. The way in which we communicate defines who we are and what we choose to express to the rest of the world.

For several months now, I have considered myself, “bone tired.”  This is more than exhaustion. For some reason, sleep does not take this “drugged-like” state away.  And so, I have had two sleep studies, the last of which rendered me feeling the worst I have felt in weeks.  I still have to wait for the results to be sent to my doctor to see what happens next.

This experience has gotten me thinking about how I don’t really consider some of the ways that other people feel, until I experience it myself.  I suppose this is human nature. So, I decided that it deserves my consideration to reflect on the things for which I should be grateful.

First of all, I need to feel grateful for the fact that this feeling of “bone-tiredness” has not always been true.   In addition to that, I have insurance that is paying for the tests to help me find out what is going on. That alone is worthy of my gratitude.

I have, and always have had rather good health, which is, in itself, a blessing that many people do not enjoy.  It affords me many opportunities that I do not deserve more than any other person. I am grateful, but I must think of this and express it more.

There is most likely something that can be done to remedy my situation.  This is yet another thing to be happy about. I am retired, so I don’t have to worry about missing work.  Wow, the reasons to be glad just keep on coming! That is often the case when one looks for the positive aspects of anything.

These few instances of “looking on the bright side of things” make me realize that being grateful should be the first thing I recognize as I wake each morning.  This is a choice I can make each day. I will try my best to remember this, even if I wake up “bone tired” tomorrow.

I often think of how different life was when I was growing up.  It was a simpler time in many ways, because we didn’t have so many “things” in our lives.  With not as many “things” to play with or scheduled things to do, there was more time for doing nothing in particular.  I remember lying in the grass in my yard, just looking up at the clouds, and finding animals and faces in their shapes. And I would daydream, think deep thoughts and question things in my mind, like why are there so many kinds of dogs.

In the summer, there was time to just hang around with neighbor kids, or go to the nearby park where there were activities you could choose to do.  There were crafts and games, sports and playground equipment. There were “park directors” who were there to supervise and it was simple fun.

On hot days, we would go to a nearby pool.  That’s where I had my first swimming lessons.  We’d ride our bikes everywhere, and it was safe to walk in the evening with a friend.  Mostly, we had an abundance of time and the summer seemed to last a very long time.

There were less distractions because we didn’t have as many gadgets or any electronics to speak of.  We had time, lots of it. And I loved it. I spent a lot of time thinking in those days. I don’t think that is true in the same way today.

I am sure that not everyone was blessed as I was, but time passed slower and life was just, as I said, simpler.  I often wonder how things have changed so much and so fast, Now, there is no such thing as slow. Everything is fast.

In so many ways, I remember time being slower.  Slower lives enable deeper experiences, because deep experiences require time.  They do not happen fast. And that makes them special.

So, if I could change things for young people growing up today, I would like for them to have more time to do nothing, to discover and learn, and less time with electronics of all kinds.  I would wish for slower times, to think and ponder and experience “simple things.” I would like for them to have time for self-discovery. I wish that they could have the kind of childhood I had.  It’s not too late for that, is it? I hope not. I just want all of us to have a good childhood, because I was fortunate to have it, and because I think that everyone deserves the chance to have a good and happy life, the kind of life I had when I was young.

I am extremely blessed.  I have been the recipient of the selfless love that only good mothers can give.  I don’t deserve this, anymore than any of us do. But, because I have been loved so fully, and so well all of my 67 years, I have been given a gift beyond measure.  I just feel the need to express my love to the extraordinary woman that I know as “Mom.”

When I was born, in the early 50”s, it was kind of like the T.V. show, “Happy Days.”  For many people, after World War II, things were economically better and there was an optimism, borne of having lived through the Depression and war.

I came into into this environment, to two remarkable people that wanted me and cherished me from before I was born.  In many ways, they were just like everybody else. But, to me, they were my world. And my world was truly lovely.

My parents weren’t rich, even though it seemed to me that we were.  But we were very fortunate and they worked hard to make a good life for my brother and me.  And my Mom, as was common then, stayed home and took care of us. She was always there, physically, mentally and emotionally.  And we counted on her to be there for us. She never let us down.

As I grew up, she was still there for me, even when I was not at home.  When I was away at camp she wrote me everyday and sent me my favorite comic strip, “Marmaduke.”  When I went to Europe, while in high school, she wrote me almost everyday, as well as when I went off to college.  We would talk long distance. And in those days, long distance phone calls were expensive!

I could always connect with her.  When my kids were small, we moved to California for work.  My husband’s livelihood was being negatively affected by the economy and he had to find a job elsewhere.  So the letter writing and phone calls continued.

One of the most wonderful things about my mom was her ability to sit and listen to me.  She heard of all my joys and sorrows, all my hopes and dreams, sadness and fears. Her ability to sit without judgement and let me vent all my frustrations, never saying anything but, “Oh honey I wish I could help,”  was an incredible talent that few people possess. And her sense of humor and delicious laughter were precious gifts to me, especially when I was the one who made her laugh.

When the economy was better, we moved back and we saw each other or talked almost everyday.  Now she is 92, and I still depend on her “being there” for me. The love she and my father gave me while growing up, has been responsible for every good thing that has since happened in my life.  I can never repay her. All I can do is treasure her and do whatever I can to be there for her while she is still here with me.

Someday, when she passes on into heaven, I will be at peace, knowing that her spirit is here, still loving me and watching over me.  And I will hold tight to the love between us and look forward to the day when we will meet again.