Today, I am thankful that my memory is still intact, at least for the time being.
I must readily admit that I, unlike my wonderful wife, am not a huge fan of the romantic comedy. The idea that ‘boy meets girl, boy loses girl, but then boy amazingly reconnects with girl’ is so dated, contrived, and trite that I’d rather not bother with the silly charade. That said, my wife obtains immense satisfaction in the ‘escapist’ nature of a good romantic comedy of some fictional tale of requited love. Nevertheless, on a long trip to Asia last year (well before the COVID-19 pandemic), I watched an endearing romantic comedy about a struggling English musician, Jack Malik, who somehow becomes the only surviving member in the world to remember the Beatles. In the movie Yesterday, a global blackout of somewhat unusual (if not biblical) proportion renders the entire world’s population with amnesia about the greatest rock band of all time – The Beatles. While performing a version of the title song for some friend, the protagonist Jack Malik realizes that no one in his group has ever heard the song. Over the next 90 minutes, Jack assumes a heroic undertaking, reconstructing all the Beatles hits he can possibly remember. Not surprisingly, he becomes an instant, worldwide phenomenon and his life is turned upside down. Eventually, the movie reaches its feverish climax after Jack decides its time to come clean about his incredible skill of crafting one successful musical hit after another.
Thankfully, the Beatles are a real thing, and song like Yesterday, All My Loving, I Want to Hold Your Hand, and Hey Jude (not Hey Dude) are memories I carry with me in my brain. Yet, memory is indeed a fleeting thing, and, sadly, we often forget more than we remember. In fact, the ability of our brains to process, store, and then immediately retrieve data upon command is one of the true mysteries of human biology. Our scientific knowledge regarding the physiology of human memory is still rather nascent. What we know is that our capacity to remember information comes in several varieties, including sensory, short-term, and long-term. We also appreciate that a relatively small part of our limbic system, known as the hippocampus, helps in the consolidation of short-term data into long-term memories. We also know that memory is not perfect and, in fact, our memories degrade with the passing of time. Its ‘transient’ nature becomes readily apparent as we witness our elders lose track of their ability to recall events with each passing day. As our brains age, our ability to systematically create new memories becomes more challenging, especially as it pertains to our ability to process and store memories of recent events. Diseases of unclear etiology, such as Alzheimer’s Disease, exacerbate the condition, leaving many elderly folks cognitively bereft of their ability to produce novel memories.
So, as I’ve now entered the sixth decade of my life, I am thankful that I still maintain (I think) the faculties to generate new memories. To this end, I will ‘exercise’ my brain by spending at least 45 minutes everyday writing about something not related to my daily medical occupation. Forcing myself to pen a daily blog is my feeble attempt to piece together ideas and memories that I’d like to believe reinforce connections between my neuronal synapses. I will tackle the daily mini crossword puzzle in The New York Times as a personal time test of my capacity to recall words or events. I will listen to books to help me forge new memories about things for which I am readily unaware or unfamiliar. And, I will tell ‘boring’ stories to my teenage sons, despite the audible sighs and visible eye rolls, as a feeble attempt to prime the organ that sits within my fragile skull.
Many famous people, such as Ronald Reagan, Rosa Parks, Robin Williams, and Norman Rockwell, suffered from memory loss as they neared the end of their lives. Today, I am grateful for the copious research that scientists are undertaking in both the public and private sectors to unravel the mysterious biology behind memory. Through their efforts, we will one day have new treatments, if not cures, to stem the effects of dementia and other neurological conditions.
On this day (Sept 13) in 1965, the Beatles released their hit song, Yesterday, wherein they lament the passing of time. At the age of 52, I am still capable of recalling the simple lyrics to this rather sad song. My hope is that when I am 92 (let alone 64) I will just as easily recite the words that Paul McCartney and John Lennon elegantly chose for this lovely ballad. And, though I fully recognize that one day I am might not be half the man I used to be, I hope to still have the wits to believe in yesterday.
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