People have always commented on my ability to remember things. I’ve often been asked if I have a photographic memory. I don’t believe I do. My memories seem to be much more in the form of thoughts put together into words. When I was younger, I used to feel uncomfortable with these questions and jokingly reply, no, I’ve got a photogenic memory, or at least that is what the brain surgeon always said.

I’ve been in plays, and had problems memorizing my lines. This sort of memory has seemed challenging to me. I have done okay with sort term memories, like trying to remember some number for a short period of time. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve found that memories from high school have largely escaped me. I remember vague outlines of high school, but I’ve been surprised with things that my high school classmates that I’ve reconnected with on Facebook so many years later remember. Yet at the same time, someone describes something, or posts a picture and unexpected memories come flowing back. My memories of college are a bit less vague, with some memories being very clear. Different parts of my adult life are easier or harder to remember.

All of this has been occupying my thinking a bit recently. This writing is all about remembering. I’ve managed to remember my meals for the past several days. Yet on Friday, I forgot my coffee, leaving my travelling mug on the counter. In the evening, I forgot to bring home the charger for my laptop. As I work on my writing, I find it difficult, from time to time, to remember specific events I want to write about.

My grandfather had Parkinson’s disease, and my aunt recently succumbed to the same disease. On the other side of the family, an uncle passed away about a year ago after struggling for some time with Alzheimer’s disease.

Kim’s grandfather passed away a couple years after Kim and I married after his struggle with Alzheimer’s disease. I have to wonder, and I destined for some disease that will rob me of my memory? Are the momentary lapses, like forgetting my coffee a precursor of something to come? What role might these writings, as well as the weekly radio show I do with Fiona play in my old age, reminding me of a long ago forgotten era?

For that matter, how does my ability to remember really compare with other people? How much detail do others remember? Do I remember more or less than average? My memories; are they in a similar form or a different form from those around me?

I remember when I was in junior high school. Everything I looked at seemed soft. There weren’t clear boundaries between things. I had to hold books close to my face to be able to make out the letters. It never occurred to me that that wasn’t how other people saw things, until someone, noticing how closely I held books to my face, suggested I should have my eyes tested. Yes, in fact, I was near sighted.

I got glasses, and all of a sudden, things started looking very different. Yet what was the ‘real’ image? The way I saw things without my glasses? The way I saw things with my glasses? Perhaps something completely different, such as the say others saw things? It led me to think about other things. We all agreed on what we considered the color ‘red’. But the sensations that I experience when I see something we agree to call red, are they the same sensations that others have when they see something we agree to call red? How about when we experience something wet, or cold, or hard?

Perhaps all of this led to my eventually studying philosophy in college, and finding Empiricism and ultimately Solipsism so intriguing.