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Mother Goose
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To market, to market, to buy a fat pig,
Home again, home again, jiggety-jig.

To market, to market to buy a fat hog,
Home again, home again, jiggety-jog.

To market, to market, to buy a plum bun,
Home again, home again, market is done.

A mind like flypaper, that's me. Everything sticks, but in no discernible order. What's getting harder and harder to retrieve these days? People's names. I never was very good at it. I could tell you all about the person--his hobbies, where he worked, his pets and favorite ice cream--but I'd be darned if I could remember his name.

It's always been a problem for me. I've tried various mnemonic devices over the years. Sometimes they work, but in moments of stress (like introducing them to an important person) the device abandons me and I'm left grasping for the name. Most embarrassing.

Poetry? Music? A different thing altogether. I can probably trot out a relevant ditty or two at a moment's notice (though not always remembering all the words)--or, if someone refers to a well-known poem, recite a stanza or two.

My friends and coworkers are always amazed, but it just comes from having a flypaper mind. Sticky.

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