By Mansfield Frazier
I quit making jokes about “slipping into my dotage” once it actually began to happen. While I was blessed to inherit a middling amount of intelligence from my parents, what made me a pretty good student in the classroom had more to do with my memory. I used to have what amounted to an almost photographic one… but alas, no more.
While it didn’t work as well for numbers, my memory for words (factoids, narratives) was excellent. Most of the information I took in — not all of it, but most of it — I could recall with a great degree of accuracy even years later. Especially in subject areas I was fond of, like history. This knack is what made me a pretty fair Jeopardy! player. But of course you can’t retain what you’ve never read, so in some areas of knowledge — those I had or have no interest in — I really stink.
While, allegedly, eyesight goes first in the aging process, memory certainly must run a close second. And, while I had cataract surgery to correct my vision (I highly recommend it), I don’t know of any legitimate way to prevent memory loss. Ginko Biloba (among other products) is touted as a remedy for a failing memory, and while it might work for some folks, in my case all it was doing was making the manufacturer of the nutritional supplement richer.
Like some kind of predetermined clockwork set in humans eons ago, I started noticing short-term memory loss on my 70th birthday. You know, going into a room to get something, and upon arrival seconds later, not being able to remember what you were going to fetch. It’s amusing in cartoon form, but not so much in real life.
Another problem is forgetting to return a phone call. I formerly was in the practice of when talking to someone switching over to tell an incoming caller that I’ll get right back to him or her. Some nights I’ve bolted upright in bed at 3 am, realizing that I forgot to return a call. So, to avoid embarrassment, I’ve quit switching over and simply let incoming calls go to voicemail if I’m on the line. Age requires we learn to compensate.
But the most vexing — and embarrassing — part of memory loss is a bit more personal: Lately I keep forgetting to zip my pants up. Go ahead … get your laugh on, but I assure you it isn’t funny. Especially when you leave the checkout counter of the drugstore, and the breeze alerts you to the fact your barn door is open, and then you realize why the young woman at the register seemed to be repressing amusement. Oh, that’s what the joke was! It was on me.
Now, I’ve been zipping up my own pants for close to 68 years, and I’ve gotten pretty expert at it — and, like every other man, I have, on occasion, slipped up at this very rudimentary task from time to time. Like shit, it happens.
But not with the frequency I’ve been experiencing for the last six months or so.
I’ve attempted to rectify the problem in a number of ways. Instead of zipping up after I buckle my belt (as been my customary practice all my life), I tried varying my routine by zipping up before. But old habits die hard, I guess. I still find myself buckling up first, and then too often not completing the process. Other tricks have failed as well.
I suppose there are greater things to worry about in terms of memory loss, but many of them can be compensated for, such as my now carrying a notepad into meetings with me — something I never previously had to do. I formerly could trust my memory to recall everything that transpired, as well as remembering any action steps I needed to take afterwards. But now I simply take a legal pad and pen with me … if I can remember to do so. And if my fly is open when I enter the room, just tell me to zip up. Thanks.
From Cool Cleveland correspondent Mansfield B. Frazier mansfieldfATgmail.com. Frazier’s From Behind The Wall: Commentary on Crime, Punishment, Race and the Underclass by a Prison Inmate is available again in hardback. Snag your copy and have it signed by the author by visiting http://NeighborhoodSolutionsInc.com.
One Response to “MANSFIELD: Zip Up!”
Deon
I am surprised he remembered when he was 70!