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Tracy-Ann Oberman

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Tracy-Ann Oberman,

Tracy-Ann Oberman

Opinion

Forgotten, but not by everybody

August 6, 2012 18:55
2 min read

One of the problems of getting older is short-term memory loss versus the clarity of long-term memory gain. Of course, being only 39-ish and fully intending to be that age for the next decade - as Dorothy Parker said, 39 is the best 10 years of a woman's life - my niggle with memory failure is only just starting.

Ask me at teatime what I had for breakfast or did the night before and my mind goes blank. But ask what I did on November 5 1987 and I can remember almost every detail of that night and indeed every night in that November and the years before. I can remember with every sense memory (the Stanislavskian concept of sound, taste and smell forming memory) the following events, beginning with the death of Elvis on August 16 1977. I was swimming with armbands in an over-chlorinated pool, my eyes stinging, the tinny radio blaring and Mum crying at the news.

I can look back to the death of John Lennon on December 8 1980. The heating was on the blink so we were freezing cold in our house in Stanmore, and Mum was crying at the news. The night Thatcher won, my parents held an election party for the neighbours. We kids were allowed to stay up late, stealing smoked-salmon bagels and biscuits.

I wore a hideous scratchy knitted jumper and watched Mum, Aunty Celia and Aunty Lesley jumping up and down in the kitchen like a gang of suffragists, shouting: "She won." And Mum cried at the news.