Along the Road.

Waikato Times, Volume 121, Issue 20260, 31 July 1937, Page 15 (Supplement)

Along the Road.

AN OCCASIONAL COLUMN.

(By the Swagger.)

LAST TIME I sat down to writ© my letter, “to whom it may concern,” I had an intention to deal with some littl© aspect or incident, but for the life of me I cannot remember what it was, and I have no copy for filing purposes. The paper came, as usual, but with the nights oold and wet there is a constant demand for fires, and that means, first of all a bit of paper. Most people simply look at the date on the top of the page, say ‘‘day before yesterday’s,” or something like that, and go right ahead. They forget that it took a lot of work by good men to make the paper, even the day before yesterday’s, but all of us like to know the latest in the form of news. Now several times as I have been writing this paragrapi 1 nearly called to memory hat it was I meant to write about a fortnight ago. I suppose we all have that experience. A name is forgotten and try as we will it will not come to mind. Perhaps next day, or it may be only half an hour later, the name Slips Into the Conscious Mind and we say: “ Oh, yes, of course, .” That, I understand illustrates the working of the subconscious mind, which never forgets and never sleeps. I admit to being interested in that sort of thing, and once tried for three days to recall a name, only to have it slip into my mind several days later, when I was doing a difficult bit of work and not thinking at all about my poor memory or anything connected with the name I wanted. I would like to hear an expert explain what causes a person to say: “ I nearly had it,” when trying to recall a name. How did he know, if the name was temporarily forgotten, that he was near success in bringing it through to the conscious mind? If he could not state the name, that is, could not remember it, how could he possibly know when he nearly remembered it? That puzzles me. I have seen people, trying to recall a name, suddenly sit up, open their mouth to speak and then say, in a subdued sort of way: “I nearly had it.” When someone says: “ I think it begins with a P '’ then I can understand, and guess that he is going “p-a, p-e, p-i, p-o, p-u,” in an effort to build the name up. He has a slight clue along which to direct his thoughts, but the person who has completely forgotten the name and yet persists in saying: “ I was near it then,” really interests me.

One good way is to “sleep on it,” as the old people used to advise. It is really effective. Sometimes one will wake up in the early hours and the name, or the fact required, is there clear in the memory. Some men, I have read, solve their problems that way, or at least get their best ideas at the moment of waking. And one of the reasons why I should like to call to mind the matter on which 7 meant to write two weeks ago is that

I had collected several thoughts about the subject—had Turned It Over In My Mind,

as some people say. But all is gone, and yet, if that topic would only again suggest itself, I know that all the other thoughts that I had, as it were, pegged to it, would be found there too, ready for expression. I have pro tern lost the key to that avenue of thought, but there is no need to worry. It will be found. Some people do get irritated when they cannot recall a name. You probably have heard them. “ The thing’s idiotic. I know his name as well as I know my own,” and a lot more of that while, at the same time, the speaker’s mind is searching keenly for that word. The processes of the mind are really interesting and sometimes amusing. Long ago I was travelling in a train in the Old Country. Opposite me sat a lady, approaching middle age. Naturally we had not spoken. We were strangers. Suddenly she leaned forward, placed one hand on my knee and said something that sounded like

“ Ballocknish.” Then, I am glad to say she laughed heartily, apologised, and explained that she and her husband had been trying to remember some Erse or Gaelic word'that Scott had liked, and that as she sat quietly in the train it had suddenly flashed into her mind and just as suddenly she had leaned forward and spoken it. I have forgotten her name, can just recall that her dress was of a silver grey, but know for a certainty that the incident happened in December, and I know the year as well. Why is it that sometimes the most insignificant of a series of facts will stand out clearly in the memory for decades, while the things we might desire to remember vanish seemingly beyond recall ? Years ago I had quite an argument with an old friend about a little house on the shores of a bay. He said it was built of redstone from the hills nearby. I said red brick, and the only reason I said brick was that I could remember that those bricks were smaller than the ordinary brick. They were smaller and they were weathered badly at one corner of the house. Remembering those two things I argued for brick. I fancy he recalled the colour and as the brick was dark and some of the walls in that part were built, as were some cottages, of the dark stone he plumped for red stone. We Recall the Little Mannerisms of friends most easily. But, here again I am wandering—from what we had forgotten to what we remember, and the space is filled. One thing few of us can do. In the mind's eye we cannot see childhood’s friends grow old. We try to imagine what they look like, but as we remember them they are like those mentioned by the poet: “ Forever young, in my remembrance.” Wejl, I forgot the subject I had intended to write about, so I have written about the forgetting.