Posts Tagged ‘memory’

Remembering Ice Cream

Posted: November 15, 2015 in Family, Food, Men vs Women, Old Age
Tags: , , , ,


Ice cream with strawberries.

   A Couple in their nineties are both having problems remembering things. During a check-up, the doctor tells them that mentally, they’re fine. He advises them that if they’re having trouble remembering things, they might want to start writing things down.

Later that night, while watching TV, the old man gets up from his chair. ‘Want anything while I’m in the kitchen?’ he asks.

‘Will you get me a bowl of ice cream?’


‘Don’t you think you should write it down so you can remember it?’ she asks.

‘No, I can remember it.’

‘Well, I’d like some strawberries on top, too. Maybe you should write it down, so as not to forget it?’

He says, ‘I can remember that. You want a bowl of vanilla ice cream with strawberries.’

‘I’d also like whipped cream. I don’t want you to forget that, so write it down.’ she says.

Irritated, he replies, ‘Dang it, woman, I don’t need to write it down! I can remember it: Vanilla ice cream with strawberries and whipped cream – I got it, for goodness sake!’

Then he ambles into the kitchen and she hears him getting out bowls and flatware. After about 20 minutes, the old man returns from the kitchen and hands his wife a plate of bacon and eggs. She stares at the plate in disbelief.

‘I told you, you should have written it down, she quips, ‘You forgot the toast.’


Sometimes, I feel like I'm as smart as Albert Einstein. Other times, I only feel as old as Mr Einstein

    As I get older, it is dawning on me that maybe my memory is not as good as it used to be. My wife says that I lose my car keys, my medicines, my glasses, or my false teeth on a regular basis. But I really can’t remember the last time I lost one of those items.

On the other hand, I find myself thinking about the hereafter a lot more; I walk in to a room and think, “What am I here-after?”

   Well, they say there are three sure signs of old age:

  1. Gray Hair
  2. Loss of Memory

I can never remember the third one.

   Well, I decided to do something about my failing memory. I was talking to a group of friends, and I wanted to know what they thought about a Memory Seminar coming up.

“Hey, I’m thinking about going to the Memory Loss Treatment Seminar,” I told them.

“Yeah? Where is it?” one of them asked.

“It’s at… it’s at…” I couldn’t think of the name!

“What’s the yellow stuff that bees make?” I asked.

“Honey?” Gene replied.

“Yeah, that’s it.” I continued, “… Honey, what’s the name of that place holding the memory seminar?”

My loving wife replied, “It’s being held at the University of Tennessee.”

   So I went. What a total waste of time. I hadn’t been there 20 minutes when I realized that I had attended the same seminar with the same speaker at the same location last year.

So I went home.

   But I couldn’t remember where my house was. I drove around and around the neighborhood looking for a familiar residence. I didn’t recognize any of the street names, the cars in the driveway, the mailboxes, nothing. It started to get dark. So I stopped and asked this group of teenagers hanging out on the corner, “Hey, do any of you know where Mr Lawson lives?”

One of the girls, about 15 years old, pointed to a brick rancher and said, “That’s our house right there, Dad.”