When I recently wrote a news story about free memory tests being offered locally, I actually thought about taking the test, but, of course, when the time came, I forgot all about it until it was too late.

It’s just as well. All things considered, I don’t think my memory — or lack of one — is any worse today than it was 30 years ago. In other words, I have always been a bit on the forgetful side.

My wife put it best more than 20 years ago, when after I had forgotten to pick up our daughter at school, she complained, “John, you are the only person I know who can remember Roger Maris’s batting average in 1961 and all the words to some goofy song no one has ever heard of but can’t remember to pick up your daughter from school.”

She was right. Years later, I still tend to remember the trivial and forget the important.

Of course, the most important numbers are deeply embedded in my brain. Like most adults, I can quickly recite my date of birth, social security number, home phone number and address. I know the birthdays of my wife, mother, children and even my sisters, but I can’t remember my cell phone number or my dentist appointment.

While my wife often is amazed by what I forget, I am just as amazed by what I remember. For example, I recently was able to recite the address of the home my wife and I lived in Cottontown, Tenn, more than 30 years ago. Why would I remember that? Beats me. I thought I had flushed it down my memory hole decades ago. Believe it or not, I do try to remember the important and forget the trivial — but continue to fail.

For the first 14 years of my life, a great uncle lived with my family. Harley was a superb storyteller who would spend hours relating exciting tales of heroism and of adventures throughout the world. I loved them and I loved him for sharing them.

But Harley didn’t have a clue about what he did 10 minutes ago. Back in the 1950s, we called it senility, but I suppose Harley may have had some form of Alzheimer’s.

But maybe not. He always recognized us although he didn’t call any of us by our real names. But that was OK. I knew when he said “Billy Three Johns,” he was talking about me. Mom was the “Egyptian Mummy.” I never got the humor in that until after Harley had died.

If Harley had taken the free memory test, I am certain he would have flunked it. To the rest of the family — including his sister who was my grandmother — Harley was an embarrassment who they never visited. But Mom, Dad, my sisters and I loved Harley, warts and all. He died almost 50 years ago, but I still miss him.

During a weekend visit with my mother, now 92 and nearly blind, she handed me an old book of poetry that had three bookmarks in it.

I turned to the first bookmark and read the first few words of the poem on that page, but before I finished the first line, Mom broke in and recited the entire poem from memory. She did the same thing with the next poem.

If Mom had taken the memory test, I am fairly certain she would have passed with flying colors. Sometimes she gets a little confused, but for the most part her mind works just as well as it always has. For that I am thankful.

Just the other day, a friend called me at work. We had a nice conversation that a thoroughly enjoyed because she is one smart cookie who always has something worthwhile to say. As I write this, I can remember 95 percent of that conversation, but for the life of me, I can’t remember the point of her call. This was not strictly a personal call. Her call had something to do with my job.

The fact that I can’t remember why she called is what worries me most about the current state of my memory. It comes and goes. I just hope what goes is really not that important.

I don’t want to become like ... uh ... you know, old whatshisface ...

JOHN CANNON can be reached at jcannon@

dailyindependent.com

or at (606) 326-2649.