We all know the song . . . .  “On the Road again, just can’t wait to get on the road again”  You’ve probably even sung it when you got in the car for a repetitive drive.  For us, the drive to and from the Chicago Medical District this past year and a half has been one of those repetitive drives.  Fill up with gas, pack the car, throw in a few water bottles, and out the door we go.

And then, halfway through the trip, it hits you, how did I get here?  You don’t have any memory of the trip to that point, no thoughts about the turns you’ve taken, the speed your driving, or any conversation you’ve had.  It’s just a blank.  How does that happen?

The mind is a funny thing.  It can remember the most obscure details about some things:  I’m sure you know someone who remembers 3rd grade like it was yesterday, the words to rock & roll songs from their youth, individual lines from TV shows or movies; even trivia answers that make them a sought-after teammate. The mind is a remarkable device.

It’s my opinion that the mind has also been designed to protect its owner.  In many cases, it can remove or blur the memories that can cause someone to dwell on the past or events that were traumatic.  Making those memories less prominent and even hard to recall. This is what my mind has done to me.

I can remember data about finances, how to build or re-build most anything, figure out how to program electronic devices, and the one that drives my wife crazy, sing songs she’s never even heard of. I also never forget a face, but the name behind that face is questionable.

But for me, remembering details about my life, especially prior to the late 1980s, it’s mostly lost.   I can only remember snippets,  kind of like watching movie trailers.  I remember parts of growing up in Champaign; college years; special friends; where I’ve worked and lived.  I can also piece together dates of when things happened;  when I went to school, moved to different towns, worked for different businesses, and when my kids were born.  But the details of most of the major events of my life are a shell of what they should be. I just tell everyone I have selective Alzheimers.

There are times when this becomes troublesome.  At the High School Reunion when someone says “Remember when .  .  .  .  ”    filling out a document that requires specific information from the past;  or even at family events when everyone is just chatting about our past.  I try all the time to remember things;   trips, birthday parties, and Christmas time from when my family was very young, but nothing.

Photographs of my life are pretty much all I have to go on:  Cindy & I square dancing at a convention; Cassie ridding on my shoulders in the hills of Minnesota; Pheasant hunting with a good high school friend; Jason riding his peddle tractor in the snow pulling Cassie in a wagon; Birthday party at mom & dads celebrating the fall birthdays;  even recent events like Suzanne & my honeymoon and trips we have taken; all lost in the archives of my mind.

Dealing with this has been hard for me as I so much want to remember. Not letting on to others about my problem is even harder. All I can figure is that God has a plan for me, I may not like the way He’s getting me there, but It’s the road I’m on and I plan to stay on it.

My mouth shall speak wisdom; the meditation of my heart shall be understanding. I will incline my ear to a proverb; I will solve my riddle to the music of the lyre.

Psalm 49:3-4

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