The Human Computer - July 3, 2014

As published in the White River Current - Thursday July 3, 2014

I once read or heard a commentary that compared the human brain to a computer ---that information entered is retained until retrieved.  The article also indicated that the information was placed in different “folders” that could be accessed by a particular biological sourcing mechanism.  That’s way too complicated for me to understand or describe but I have had instances when I guess I pressed the right button and some ancient memory from my childhood popped up.  An example occurred last week when I was reading Megan’s Musing column in this newspaper.  Megan was giving an account of her trip to a poet’s retreat that she had attended. When I was younger, I could memorize just about anything in a short period of time.  I’ve talked about this before.  Now, I have trouble memorizing anything but I still remember things from long ago. Anyway, in this particular mysterious memory I was about five or six years old and my mother and I were climbing the stairs to the second floor of the old school building.  It was nighttime and we were attending a community Christmas program that was held in the study hall.  The place was packed and people were sitting at the school desks and folding chairs and some were standing.  I was on the program to recite a poem that I had memorized.  Mom and I had just reached the top of the stairs and were turning right to walk through the double doors into the study hall when I saw her.  It was Mary Lou and her grandmother.  Now I should explain that Mary Lou was about my age and was struck on me.  I stopped dead in my tracks and would have turned and run but my mother had a hold on my hand.  Then I heard Mary Lou say in a (seemingly) loud voice, “Grandma, there’s Reed Mack.”  I almost fainted, but I retained my composure and guided my mom to a seat up front.  The poem that I recited was “Jest ‘Fore Christmas” that told, in verse, about a young lad who relates his activities of doing mischievous things except “jest ‘fore Christmas, I’m as good as I kin be!”  This poem by Eugene Field (1850-1895) is available on the internet.  Just “google” it if you are interested.  Of course, my recitation received a standing ovation.  I think I was able to escape without seeing Mary Lou and her grandmother again that evening.  You have to remember that at that age I thought girls came from another planet, sorta like the kid in the poem who announced that he was “mighty glad I ain’t a girl---rather be a boy.”  Things do change as the years go past.  I wonder what ever became of Mary Lou.  Anyway, thanks to the Current for printing these offerings each week or so.  We are very fortunate to have these writings available for enjoyment and also for the historical and educational value.  At the present time, in addition to the Ramblings and Musing columns, we can learn much about plants and the environment through Linda’s “Nature Journal,” incidents of the past through Susan’s “Not So Long Ago,” plus learn about our ancestors and other historical figures with Freda’s remarkable stories.  Add to all that is the reporting of Rich, bringing us up to date on current events.  I read every issue from cover to cover (don’t you?).  I really miss some of the columns that are no longer appearing in our paper.  Do you remember “The View from Off?”  This enjoyable column (written by locals Fred & Kathie) was the inspiration for my Ramblings op-ed offerings.  Derrall’s dog (River) once wrote humorous accounts about fishing on the White River.  Jim & Jill, both professional “outdoor” writers, each used to write about hunting/fishing/etc. on alternate weeks.  Doctor Robert once penned a scholarly essay weekly for a period of several months about the cause and treatment of  various diseases that affect us humans.  Fredericka has begun to share some heretofore  unpublished Tenoring writings of her husband, Tom*.  There’s good reading ahead.  Megan’s column also reminded me that I once had  the desire to write a song but was having trouble with the rhyming.  You long-time readers may remember this.  Maybe I should ask Megan for help.  Should I write the song lyrics in “iambic pentameter?” (I just threw that in to let you know that I can speak poetically).   See you later, For another caper, In this paper.