I listened to Poetry Please on Radio 4 on Sunday. One poem that struck a chord was One Art
by Elizabeth Bishop, about losing or forgetting things.
This has become a known aspect of the Covid lockdown – people really are finding their memory is getting worse. We have lost the routines, the conversations, the interactions that force our brains to focus, concentrate on what is happening, who we are talking to and why. We slop around the house – many people have said they no longer bother to wash their hair as much or put fresh clothes on every day or wear make-up. It’s not worth it, we don’t have customers to worry about when we send emails out. Zoom meetings can be ‘any time, any place, anywhere’ (for those of you are old enough to remember the Martini ad!)
Of course, we forget things from the past, too. We remember things we want to remember and filter out other things, such as that train fare we ‘forgot’ to pay or that time we tripped over our own feet and felt a complete idiot. We mis-remember because it was a long time ago, or someone else insists that their version of the event is correct and that influences our own memory.
Other times we can’t forget. The bad things, the traumatic events, the times when we wish we had said/not said, done/not done something. Memories that come back to haunt us, even in our dreams.
Then there are the times we forget because we are too busy with other things, and what we should have done just slips out of our head. Even if, sometimes, it disappears between the thought ‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ and actually getting to the kitchen and wondering why you’re there.
This, of course, has nothing to do with old age or failing brain cells. Which is why I wrote the following poem:
I listened to a poem yesterday
About forgetting things we say
Like “I’ll take the dog out when it rains”
Or “Yes, of course, invite your Aunty Jane.”
This year I’m going to write a list
Of those whose birthday I have missed
I’ll label all the photos too
So no more arguments about the view:
On whether it was Greece, Japan,
Australia or Isle of Man.
I’ll write down names, and dates I’ve made,
Shopping lists, where keys I’ve laid,
Meetings that I must attend
From whom I borrow, to whom I lend.
And where and why and when and what,
So there’ll be nothing I’ve forgot.
No more apologies I’ll have to say.
Like, “Sorry, this blog was due here – yesterday.”
Title quote from Hamlet.
