Help! I've Lost my Hippocampus!

Long-term memory is the one that makes your grandmother reminisce in great detail about childhood events as if they happened yesterday. Short-term memory is most recent events, like what you cooked for dinner two hours ago, or what time you're suppose to show up for jury duty again tomorrow.

Once short-term memory kicks in, that data travels to the "sorting center"--the hippocampus--where it gradually winds its way over to the long-term memory side of the brain. It's almost like adding another storage bin to the garage shelf.

So, what happens when you forget long-ago memories? Is it the fault of your hippocampus? Is your brain misfiring, shriveling with age, or just plain rebelling? Is there a way to sharpen a lagging memory before next summer's class reunion?

Someone has done their homework! They know the importance of a well-oiled hippocampus, and how it helps learning and maintaining information. In fact, they're so enamored with that H word, they've come up with a website that I suspect you're going to want to bookmark and share with friends of friends of friends.

HippoCampus: Teaching With the Power of Digital Media looks like something I could have used a few decades ago. Give it a test drive and see what you think.

Ok, so I'm 61 now--not exactly petrified wood but not quite primetime, either.

Five years ago at the ripe old age of 55, I received a chirpy wakeup call when I was handed a brochure at a clothing store with the oh-so-exciting news that every Tuesday I would be able to save 4% on picture frames. "Senior Tuesday!" sang the happy young clerk.

I restrained myself from doing backflips across the parking lot. Not good on the wrists, you know.

Life is an adventure. I hop out of bed with knees creakin' and shoulder joints poppin', ready to take on the world...at a little slower pace, perhaps, but I'm ready nevertheless.

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Two elderly gentlemen, Jack and Harry, were chatting over coffee one morning.

Jack: "Me and the Mrs. went to a good restaurant last night."

Harry: "What was it called?"

Jack was clearly struggling to recall the name. "What's the name of that flower that women like to get."

"Carnation," says Harry.

"No. It's usually red with big petals."

"Poppy?"

"No. It has a thorny stem," insists Jack.

Harry's face lights up. "Do you mean a rose?"

"That's it! A rose!"

Jack picks up his cell phone and phones his wife, Rose.
"Hey hon, what was the name of that restaurant we went to last night?"

I'm working at staving off the trainload of dementia that everyone seems to expect of seniors, starting by an all-out effort to memorize new names. Take the lady with the big hoop earrings, for example. When I first met Natalie, I didn't have any other acquaintances by that name, so I figured it'd be a cinch. I'd run into her often at church, the grocery store or post office, but that didn't help. After a few months, I was too embarrassed to admit that her name had slipped through my gray matter like water through a pasta strainer.

I did what any rational person would do; I faked it for the first year. Then I thought, If visual exercises used to help me memorize history facts for my fourth-grade tests, that might be an effective way to remember names.

So I came up with a lively visual to help me connect her name to her face. One thing I'd noticed is that Natalie never left the house without wearing big gold hoop earrings. So I pictured a gnat flying back and forth through those big hoops, like a circus performer.

It worked!

The next time I ran into Natalie, I didn't even hesitate. "Hi, Gnatalie," I said, feeling smug about my tricky little secret.