List-Serve

"I don't like the sound of all those lists he's making - it's like taking too many notes at school; you feel you've achieved something when you haven't." Dodie Smith, I Capture the Castle, 1948

I make lists, lots of lists. Theoretically, this is to help me remember things. In reality, about half the time, I lose the list.

Like the old AA adage, "It works if you work it," making lists is only helpful if A) you acutally write things down, and B) you can find the list when you need to remember what you wrote down. In fact, lists work in much the same way that memory does. In order for memory to function, you have to A) store the information and B) be able to retrieve it when you want or need it.

Writing endless lists that magically disappear when you need them most is not helpful. Ok, let's be honest, when I say the lists disappear, I really mean that I lose them, or misplace them or simply put them in a Very Important Place, and then forget where that is.

My house and car and purse are littered with Post-its and scraps of paper with numbers and messages and To-Do lists and phone numbers and passwords. There is an excellent book called "Man in the Holocene" that details the descent of an elderly paleontologist into dementia. As he begins to realize he is losing his memory, he starts making notes and posting them around his home. The notes contain various types of meaningful information - personal memories, archeological facts. It was one of those books that I read years ago that stayed with me. As I was reading it, I remember thinking it would make a brilliant film, and I found myself talking about it the other day when discussing memory with a friend. I sometimes wonder if, as I age, I will end up listing my important facts on bits and pieces and papering my walls with them. People will head injuries are more likely to develop memory problems as they age.

What would I choose to list? What will be important to me twenty, thirty years from now? How much will I have forgotten by then?

Eight months after the accident, I got married. We didn't have months of planning. My husband works in the film industry and I have a background in both theatre and catering. The idea that it takes a year to plan a wedding is complete hogwash. We booked, planned and tied the knot in a month, but I digress. The point I was trying to make was that while I was writing out invitations I forgot the name of my Aunt. Forgot it. Gone, baby, gone.

It was the first time that my memory loss really scared me.

I recall looking at my mom who was helping with lists and addresses and almost being ashamed and afraid to admit that I could not remember her name. I groped. "Um, you know, ... jeez." There was probably a curse or two thrown in. I curse like a sailor when frustrated. Somehow THOSE words stayed in my active and accessible memory. Finally, I said something like, "Oh my god...the woman...she's married to Uncle Ed."

"Aunt Violet?" My mom said it like a question although I have only two married uncles. As if there were another possible woman married to Ed. The question in her voice was really an expression of amazement and disbelief. She'd never seen me lose that kind of fact before either.

All of this discussion stems from my forgetting my calendar and notebook this morning. As I rushed out of the house on my way to a doctor's appointment (what else?), I was rifling through my purse looking for my checkbook. It was there yesterday, I swear. I took several items out of the purse. I put them back in. I took them out again. I got distracted. I did not put the calendar back in the purse.

Unfortunately, this fact did not become apparent until I was already on the road. The reason for my distress: I had several appointments scheduled for today, all at different times. There were not recurring, same time/same place appointments.

I can't even follow my own rules.

And this made me think about the futility of lists, or at least of lists you can't find.

As I walked from the doctor's office to the hospital garage, I noticed something on the ground, three small pieces of paper folded in half. They were three pages torn from a small desk top calendar: June 18, June 19th, and June 20th. Unfolding the sheets revealed on the back of June 20th a list...

Call 2 remaining people
Conserve energy - have extra
Dictate in room
Malpractice ins -> what is the time frame?

Bed early call Una
Email Barran - last items - MBSR first floor
CV Jeff/Teacher portfolio
Sign up 4 [illegible] red

I will remember these things from this lost list here. Just in case the person who wrote them forgets.