It’s a cliché that as people age, their memory fails them, but it’s also a truth. I used to have an incredible memory. For example, I know off the top of my head that the garbage compactor where the Star Wars heroes were trapped was number 3263827, and that “View to a Kill” by Duran Duran was the #1 single in the U.S. at the time of Live Aid (July 13, 1985). (I’m the queen of ’80s trivia.) Yet, I often forget why I went into a room, or if I told something to someone.
It’s frustrating, because I’ve always prided myself on my near-photographic memory (except for names. I always had a problem with them.) Now I repeat myself. The scary bit is that my mum died of Alzheimer’s, as did her mother. That disease scares the hell out of me, as I’ve spent my life pursuing knowledge, be it trivial or not. The idea of forgetting everything scares me more than burning to death or drowning. By the way, Euler’s number is 2.7182818 (that’s from memory too.)
Is memory important to my being transgender? In some ways, yes. I want to remember all those who have helped me along the way. I want to repay the debt I owe them or pay it forward to others. But, being me, I also want to remember those who wronged the Community, never to forgive. Their names are entered forever in the Book of Grudges. Yes, I’m vindictive. If you’ve read my column for any amount of time, you already know that. Oh, did you know that John Kruk, currently a Phillies announcer and former first baseman, retired with a .300 batting average? (another bit of random trivia).
In any case, what brought on this topic? Well, that’s simple. Despite being reminded, I forgot I had a column due this week. Good thing that the intrepid editor reminded me in time. Now where did I put my glasses?
Category: Transgender Opinion