Remembering Everything

When I walk into a room and actually remember what I went in for, I feel like I just won the lottery. The older I get and the more things I have going on in my life, the worse it is. Today was a case in point.

I headed to work, but when I got to my car, I couldn’t unlock it because I had forgotten my keys. We live in an apartment over a tall shop, so it is like climbing stairs to a building’s third floor. I went to get my keys and saw my wallet. I grabbed it, put it into my pocket, then went downstairs. When I got to the car, I still didn’t have my keys, so I climbed the stairs again.

Just as I entered the apartment, my wife, Donna, called out, “Did you remember your phone?”

I realized I hadn’t remembered my phone, so I went to the little table by the side of my bed and picked it up. I put it in my pocket and, having come up for one thing and having retrieved one thing, I went back out to the car. When I got there, I again couldn’t open it because I still didn’t have my keys.

I let out a big sigh and climbed the stairs for a third time. This time, Donna called out the checklist, “Keys, wallet, phone, and computer?” I double-checked, grabbed my keys and computer, and finally had everything.

As I drove off to work, I thought, “I’ve got to do something to remember better. Either I need to grow younger, or I need to remove the multitude of distractions in my life.”

Obviously, the first was impossible, so I knew I needed to concentrate on the second.

As I was thinking about this, I suddenly remembered that Donna had asked me to pick up something on my way to work. I was barely able to pull off the exit before I passed it, but then I had to pull over to remember what it was she asked me to get. I finally recalled it was some shelf brackets, so I went to the hardware store.

But as I went in, I remembered I needed some pipe fittings. I got them and got in the checkout line. I worked my way up, and just as I finally made it to the register, I remembered I needed shelf brackets. I got out of line and retrieved them, then got back in line.

Just as I got to the register again, a man came up and handed a wallet, keys, and cell phone to the lady at the register. “These were left in the bathroom,” he said. “Maybe the person is still in the store, and you can get them to him before he leaves.” The man then left.

I started to say that it was convenient he gave them to the only checker in the store, because the man who lost them would need the wallet to check out. But I didn’t finish before the lady spoke into the little microphone on her shirt collar.

“John,” she said, “you left your things in the bathroom. I have them at the checkout counter.”

“That was amazing,” I said. “You didn’t even look in the wallet to see whose it was. In fact, I didn’t even see you look at them at all.”

“I didn’t have to,” the woman said. “It’s pretty much a daily occurrence, and I knew whose stuff it was without even looking.”

A moment later, a man who looked to be about my age came up. Though he was wearing the trademark vest of the hardware store, his clothes were ruffled, and his hair looked like he had gone through a static electricity experiment.

“You know, John,” the checker said, “it’s good we live in a rural community where everyone knows each other and most people are honest.”

John nodded and sheepishly collected his items.

As for me, I was grateful to know I wasn’t the only one who forgets things.