Predicting recall

It’s not a shock that I can’t remember everything. No one can. And I’ve got so much crammed into my brain that I can’t hope to remember it all.

OK, I can hope.

There’s plenty of stuff that I know that I once knew and predict I can’t recall. There’s other stuff that I won’t be surprised if I can’t bring back.

But it’s surprising when I predict that I can remember something and I can’t.

Who shot John Kennedy?

A while ago I remember not remembering the name of the guy who shot John Kennedy.

I would have predicted that I knew it. But I didn’t. Surprise!

How could I forget his name?

Everybody knows his name. It was…

There was a hole in my memory.

I could see all around it, but not see into it.

I knew that Jack Ruby had shot the guy. And the guy’s name was…

empty

I remembered the film that was taken by Leon? (actually Abraham) Zapruder of Kennedy being shot by…

What was his name?

I remembered Jim Garrison in Louisiana who had started an investigation into the conspiracy that had led to Kennedy being shot by some other guys and…what was the guy’s name again?

I knew he’d married a Russian woman, and his name was…

I could see the rifle he’d used and his name was…

And the shot that killed Kennedy had been fired from the Texas Book Depository by… who was he?

I had a hole in my memory that was precisely the size of the guy’s name.

Making the unconscious conscious

How do things become conscious? It’s a mystery. They just appear. Or not.

I believe that the things that I think I know and can’t recall are there in the unconscious. The information has not been lost. It’s just that the mysterious and automatic system that causes the answer to rise to consciousness can’t talk loud enough for me to hear.

Recite the alphabet

When I can’t remember a name I start reciting the alphabet, and listening carefully. That’s what I did.

A. B. C. D. E. F. G. H. I. J. K. L…..

It was L. I think it was L.

L what?

LA? LE? LE. LE!

It’s LEE.

Lee something.

Lee what?

Then out of the darkness comes: “Lee Harvey Oswald.”

I had a Lee Harvey Oswald sized hole in my brain.

Last night’s failure

Last night, I tried to remember the name of the guy who helps me with projects around the house.

His name was—fuck! How could I forget his name?

I hadn’t thought about Lee Harvey Oswald for years. But just a couple of months ago I’d been working with…what the fuck is his name?

I know I know this guy’s name.

So I go to the alphabet and listen carefully.

A. B. C. D. E. F. G. H. I. J. “Maybe.” something says.

K. L. M. “Yeah,” something says.”M. It’s M.”

So I sit with M for a while, and “Matt” appears in consciousness. And as soon as it appears, I know that it. It’s Matt. First name, Matt. Second name?

Fuck!

I could probably figure it out. Maybe J is a clue. Maybe not.

But it’s late, and I don’t want to play games.

I use one of my backup memory systems. I’ve texted him. I open the text app on my phone, choose Search, and type M A T. “Matt Jackson” pops up.

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