Remembering the Important Stuff

The Great Plotnik couldn't remember what he'd written in yesterday's post so he went to see. Turns out he hasn't posted anything since Tuesday.

Then he reads that basketball coach Pat Summit has been diagnosed with dementia at age 59. She had trouble remembering where she put her keys.

Plotnik forgets a lot of things these days -- words, mostly. And he watches his mom as she tries so hard to comprehend things -- you have to speak slowly and not try to say too much at once. Somewhere there is a continuum and Plottie and Mummy P. are on it (and you are too).

Memory is precious. Plot used to think it was only about remembering dear things that have happened to you in the past, but it's so much more than that. What do you hold the dearest? What would you do if you couldn't remember how to do it?

When Sal's Mom didn't realize Sal was her daughter, it really struck Plotnik. People outlive their own systems. Plot is hoping his fingers will remember where to put themselves if some day he can no longer communicate with them consciously. And yet Mummy P. was once such a wonderful pianist and now she doesn't touch her piano from one year to the next.

She gets no pleasure from it -- is this because she can no longer do it the way she used to, or because she can't remember how to do it at all? (She also can't hear much and refuses to go for a hearing test.)

OK, this is good. Plotnik just made a note to himself to sit down at the piano with her the next time he's in Stiletto City. She probably can still play even if she's not sure she can. And he knows she will enjoy anything she can create, even if Chopin's Minute Waltz should now be Rosie's Two Note Samba.