BrainlessYesterday on Facebook an old high school classmate posted a program from our 8th grade play. I usually eat up this kind of memorabilia with a large spoon, because I didn’t save enough stuff from my youth. Poems or drawings that were in our quarterly school publications are gone, until someone opens up a trunk in their mom’s attic, finds some relic from our school daze and decides to take the time to scan it and share it on Facebook.

So I looked at this program with the hungry eyes of one who wants to remember – to be transported back in time if even for a few seconds. The look of it made me laugh; this was decades before even the most rudimentary version of desktop publishing was available. The program was typed on some electric typewriter in the school office and then mimeographed.

As I read the cast and crew on the program, I saw my name. I was a gypsy singer. Hmmmmm. A gypsy singer? Me?

I have no memory whatsoever of being in this play. None at all. NONE.

I was in a ton of plays in my youth and I remember all of them. I remember playing Cinderalla in the 6th grade play. I’ve blogged about that one before.

I remember being in our town’s production of “The Music Man,” which was held outdoors during the summer of, I’m going to guess, 7th grade. I remember this because in between scenes I would run out into the park to meet up with friends and spy on this guy Erik that I had a crush on. I can still sing all the “townfolk” songs from that play.

I remember playing Eeyore in a silly little production my improv class put on for the elementary school kids. I wound up in the hospital after the show with 4 stitches in my knee from crawling over a nail that had popped up on the stage.

I remember auditioning for a high school play when I was only in middle school.  They needed kids for a few of the segments, and they had us sing a short portion of “Follow the Yellow Brick Road” as part of our audition. After I finished, the director said “Well!” in a pleased manner. I was given a solo in the opening song, but wasn’t in any of the rest of the play. This really bothered me, so my mom, who was also in the play, spoke to director and she let me be one of kids in the “Oliver” segment.

I can remember participating in our high school productions of “The Pajama Game” and “How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying.” Those were almost no fun because the director of those plays always used the same actors for the lead year in and year out. I always got “chorus” which was a bummer, and made me stop trying out for them all together. However, once I was given a part in a one act scene from this play “Vanities”  about three high school cheerleaders – I was given one of the LHS uniforms to wear. Oh boy, I bet that made some of the mean girls snicker…

I remember my senior year play, “Stage Door” where I played Jean Maitland, the second female lead. I also remember how they left my name out of the play’s synopsis in our yearbook.

My point is I can remember all of these productions – maybe not every detail of them, but enough so that some memory of them has a permanent place in my brain.

So why in the world can I not remember one millisecond of having portrayed a gypsy singer in “Young Dracula or the Singing Bat?” Where on earth did those memories go?

I was talking to my friend John about this, and of course he remembered the play, and remembered me in it. This was beginning to feel like a Twilight Zone episode. It was actually really scary. It’s one thing to not think about something for a really long time, but to lose all recollection of it at all?

And then John said something sort of funny…he said, “Well, your busy, and have a lot to do. There’s a lot going on in your life.”

Is that how the brain works? I mean, at sometime in the past did a warning message flash inside my body “hard drive is almost full?” Maybe when my 2nd daughter was born, or when I started my new job did my brain needed to make room for new stuff and simply deleted old files? If so, what other great memories am I at risk of losing?

See folks THIS is why I blog. I need to have these memories locked in cyberspace. Cause like a nude selfie that was posted on instagram or tweeted, even if it’s deleted, what ever you’ve posted is always floating out there somewhere, waiting to be Googled and rediscovered.

Unlike my brain. I need to log onto