Do you remember the first time someone called you ‘m’am’? I think I was somewhere in my thirties
and I recall thinking – well, that ‘miss’ phase is definitely behind me
now. It didn’t bother me as
much as I thought it would. But
you have to understand that back then I had one of those faces where people
always thought I was much younger than I was. Folks thought I was in junior high when in high school and
in high school when in college.
One time in my late twenties I ran to the movie theatre to buy tickets
for the nighttime show and the kid at the booth actually carded me because it
was rated R. Seriously.
And now I look around me and think everyone looks so much
younger than they are. And folks
don’t usually use ‘m’am’ anymore.
We’ve lost a lot of the generational respect that we used to have. I still call ladies ‘m’am’ and men ‘sir’
when they are much older than me.
I get smiles all the way around.
But lately I’ve been thinking that ‘m’am’ might actually just be
code for this stage of life. You
know what I mean: Middle-Aged Memory. MAM. You are mid-sentence and suddenly you forget
where you were going with what you had just said….you pause….and pause….and
then you realize with utter horror that you really can’t recall where you were
headed conversationally.
You try to laugh it off and say if it’s important it will come
back. But it does not.
You walk into a room and you can’t remember why you wanted to
come into this room. You walk back
to where you were before and retrace your steps. But this old trick does not work anymore. You notice that your mug of tea is
on the counter over there.
Gone cold. Forgot you made
it. Then you spy the
post-it note you left by the phone with questions to ask when a call came
through. Too bad you answered the
phone in the other room.
You make a bowl of cereal for breakfast. You have the milk in your hand and open
the cupboard door where the bowls are kept and as your hand approaches the
shelf you realize….this is not right. The milk is headed for the fridge, really. And why can we suddenly remember events
with utter clarity from decades ago but couldn’t remember that neighbor’s name
if lives depended upon it?
Does MAM exist because we have so many decades of knowledge and
experience crammed into our brains that something has to give? Is our little
memory librarian surrounded with tomes of our acquired facts, thoughts, and life
time events? And in sheer
desperation, and quite at random, tossing out some volumes to make room?
If you haven’t received your first ‘m’am’ then by all means
enjoy the years beforehand. But once
you do, be on the lookout for the start of MAM. A phase of life where you might want to start carrying
around a bag of breadcrumbs…just in case.
