My mind used to be reliable. If I needed a phone number, no problem. Remembering a memory verse was a breeze. The information stored within was not only easily accessible, I could retrieve it and regurgitate it, word for word, number for number.
This is now no longer the case.
Case in point. This past weekend I was trying to remember a word that described something the brain needed as we got older. We, my wife Kristen and my buddy Paul, were discussing age and how some people die soon after retirement. I said that you can’t sit around and do nothing because the brain needs ….this.
The words started flying to assist me in my quest for the perfect word or phrase.
A thesaurus was brought out to no avail. The words didn’t fit. Frustration was setting in. The word was not on the tip of my tongue. It was in my frontal lobe, in the many compartments that mens brains have, waiting to be found. not the first time.
I never found it. The moment passed and the topic changed.
This happens to everyone. Usually the word is on the ‘tip of your tongue’ and is eventually retrieved. What is under my thin skin is that nowadays, I can’t even come up with the word. Usually someone else comes up with it, or I come up with it when the moment has passed, sometimes days later. It is aggravating.
And that’s not all. My 16 year old son ,Themba, now beats me regularly in basketball; if I squat or kneel, it’s an effort to get up; I would benefit from bifocals; I can’t find my six-pack.
I’m supposed to be moving toward my golden years. It doesn’t seem like it at all. Seems more like my wooden years.
By the way, the word I was looking for was ‘stimulation’.