On the way to take my son to school one day, we were talking about learning a new language. I told him it was easier to learn a language at a young age. He was quiet for a minute then said, “I guess it’s harder for older people to learn a new language because their brain is already full.”
Though Daddy’s brain contained lots of data, he was still a master at remembering people. When he met someone, he somehow made a connection with them. Later he not only knew the person’s name, but he also knew about the family, where they were from, who they were related to, and various other bits of information.
As Daddy aged, he remarked that he just couldn’t remember like he used to. Even with his short-term memory loss, as he called it, his memory was better than almost anyone I knew. It distressed him whenever he forgot someone’s name. Usually later that day or the next, he would randomly call out the person’s name and was very pleased with himself. He had no problem remembering stories from his childhood. His tales included dates, names of people and places, and history. He was always coming up with songs from school days or from his time in the war. Somehow, he sifted through all the files of information in his head and pulled out the right one.
You’re never too old to learn something new
One day when he was discouraged because of a memory lapse, he asked why he could remember things from years ago but not from earlier that day. I told him his brain was getting full. His old memories connected to the roots of time were deeply embedded. He had drawn them from his memory bank for so many years, they were always fresh. The latest happenings of his life lay in a shallow layer on the top of his database. Kind of like dust on a table, or a thin layer of snow on a sunny day, they were easily melted and wiped away.
I loved hearing his old tales over and over again. It seemed each time, he found another nugget to add to his story. By retelling events of his childhood, he kept his mind active. He spoke bits and pieces of several other languages and would often answer a question in one of those languages. My great aunt took a language course in her later years and Daddy kept his German books handy so he could refresh those things he had learned. But his greatest language was one we should all try to learn at any age – it was the language of love and acceptance for others.
These two siblings contain a wealth of information on a plethora of topics and family history