Male Quirks and Female Foibles

The Memory Trap

Sometimes I wonder what men would do without the women in their lives to remember things for them. When boys are young, they have mothers to remind them of things like book bags, homework, warm coats or friends' birthday parties.

When they're in their teens the apron strings may loosen, but Moms still help them locate misplaced keys, homework, cell phones and other necessities. It is often Mom who reminds a young beau that the girl in his life may expect to be remembered on Valentine's Day or her birthday. Yes, that can be considered a hint to men of all ages that Valentine's Day is meant to be celebrated with an appropriate gift.

When boys leave home, they often rely on friends or significant others as their rememberers. Work schedules may be e-mailed to a girl friend – just so the boy doesn't arrive an hour late or on the wrong day.

Some are even known to call home and ask Mom something like, "What's Amber's phone number?"

When this happens, I'm sure he needs Amber to remind him of where he put something important.

This tendency of men to rely on women to keep up with important things was recently underscored when my husband had to have some medical tests done.

Originally I was supposed to accompany him – just for moral support, mind you, not to help him remember anything – but something came up, and I had to meet him there. When I arrived a few minutes after he did, the clerk in outpatient registration stopped me, calling, "Wait a minute, Mrs. Cook. Do you by any chance have Mr. Cook's orders? He said you might bring them."

Confused, I replied, "No, I don't have them, but I know right where he put them. Do you need me to go get them?"

The clerk said, "No, I think we can do the MRI based on verbal approval. The doctor had a medical emergency, but he'll probably call back shortly." Then she concluded, "I do need those written orders for the records, though. Do you have access to a fax machine?"

"No," I said, "but Wayne can use one at work."

"Well," she said, "I don't know. If you will promise to put them in his hands in the morning with the fax number attached, I suppose that will do. But you have to promise me you'll send him out the door with the orders. I know how men are."

I know how men are, too. When I married Wayne, I had a phenomenal memory. Without even trying, I remembered telephone numbers that I had used only once. If fact, I was so well known for my store of phone numbers, church members would call me rather than using the phone book. When Wayne complained about people calling to ask for phone numbers, I would ask, "Why are you complaining? You do the same thing."

He would tell me that was different. He was my husband; I was supposed to remember things for him. Over the years my memory has dimmed considerably, but I don't blame most of the loss on age; I blame it on men.

After having to remember things for Wayne for 44 years and each of my three boys for at least 22 years each until they were out of college, I used up 110 years worth of memory remembering things for them. Not to mention the 64 years of brainpower devoted to remembering my own things.