If You Can Remember This, Your Memory Is Probably Better Than You Think

As we get older…wait a minute…what was I going to say? Oh yeah.

It seems that somewhere along the way, many of us begin worrying about our memory. We misplace our keys, forget why we walked into a room, or spend ten minutes looking for our glasses only to discover they're sitting on top of our head.

Just this past week, I was talking with a friend who seemed genuinely discouraged because she kept forgetting things—especially where she had laid her keys. Wanting to cheer her up, I told her about something that happened to me.

A while back, I was talking with my mom on the phone as I walked all over the house looking for it. Yes...the very phone I was using. We both laughed until we almost cried.

Here's the good news. Even though many of us can't remember where we parked the car yesterday, we can often remember events from sixty or seventy years ago with amazing detail.

According to experts, because of something called childhood amnesia, most of us aren't supposed to have detailed memories before about age 5. They say our earliest memories are usually a mixture of real events, family stories, old photographs, and a child's imagination.

Maybe they're right. But I still know what I remember. 🤓 Or at least...I think I do.

Let me share a couple of childhood memories that still make me smile. Maybe they'll stir up a few memories of your own.

I was born in Cleveland, Ohio, but my dad dreamed of becoming a coal miner, so when I was about three or four years old, we packed up and moved to Laurel Grove, a little community near Briceville, Tennessee, where my mom had grown up.

We lived at the end of a dirt road in a little holler surrounded by woods. Our closest neighbors were Mitchell and Pearl, an older couple who lived up the hill.

The best thing about having Mitchell and Pearl for neighbors was that their grandsons, Bimbo and Danny, lived with them. Since they were a few years older than me, they became my full-time adventure guides.

Looking back, I'm not sure whether my mom thought I was unusually smart or if she simply needed a little peace and quiet.

Either way, before there were kindergartens where we lived, she enrolled me in first grade when I was only five years old.

Now here's where memory gets interesting. I had to walk across a six-inch-wide log, thirty feet above a rushing river, and then hike another two miles on a dusty dirt road just to get to school. At least...that's how I remember it.

Every morning, Mom would hold my hand as we crossed that log. Every afternoon she'd be waiting to walk me safely back home. Then one day she wasn't there. I waited. I hollered. I cried. Still no Mom.

Later I learned Dad had come home early and told her it was time for me to toughen up and cross that log by myself.

After what felt like hours, I realized I had no choice. Somehow, shaking from head to toe, I made it across. That was probably the first time I ever remember facing a fear all by myself.

Last year I went back to see the old home place. Funny thing. The raging river had somehow become a creek about six inches deep. The six-inch-wide log had grown to about thirty inches wide. And that long two-mile walk had mysteriously shrunk to about half a mile. Funny what seventy years can do to a memory.

Here's another memory that, according to my mom, really did happen exactly the way I remembered it.

Every afternoon after school, one of my chores was "slopping the hogs." That meant dragging a five-gallon bucket filled with leftovers, rotten vegetables, and feed corn all the way to the pig pen. Let's just say it wasn't my favorite part of the day.

Unfortunately, Popeye came on television right after school. Mom warned me over and over. "Feed those hogs before your dad gets home." But every now and then I'd decide Popeye was worth the consequences.

Looking back... remembering those "whuppings," I'm not completely sure I made the right decision.

We didn't have indoor plumbing either. Well...unless you count a hand water pump on the back porch. Bath time meant a long aluminum tub on the screened-in porch. The bathroom was a two-seater outhouse.

Now there's something younger generations can't even imagine. Especially on a cold winter night.

But the memory that has stayed with me more than any other wasn't funny.

One late Wednesday evening, Dad was away on New River Mountain. Suddenly something slammed against our front door hard enough to shake the whole house.

Our dog went wild. We heard scratching on the porch. Mom pulled my little sister and me close and whispered, "We'll be okay." But I looked into her eyes. Her face told a different story.

The next morning we found deep claw marks across the porch and door. People said black cougars still roamed those mountains back then. Most likely it was just a hungry bear following the smell of Mom's cooking. Either way...I slept a little lighter for quite a while after that.

So What Do I Remember?

Looking back now, I know some of those memories have probably grown a little taller over the years.

The creek may have become a river. The log may have gotten a little narrower. The walk may have gotten a little longer. But the fear was real. The excitement was real. The smell of slopping those hogs...that was definitely real.

And the courage I found crossing that log has stayed with me for the rest of my life. Maybe that's one of God's greatest gifts as we grow older. We may forget a name. We may misplace our keys. We may even walk into a room and forget why we went there.

But somehow the memories that shaped our character, built our faith, and reminded us that God was with us through every season seem to stay tucked away where they matter most.

Maybe our memories aren't meant to preserve every detail. Maybe they're meant to preserve every lesson.

Last Best Bite

The older I get, the more I realize life isn't measured by how many details we remember. It's measured by the people who loved us, the lessons that changed us, the laughter we shared, and the faithfulness of God through it all. If you can still remember those things, your memory is probably better than you think.