You know, I can remember almost everything that I have read.  I know that the mother of Tolkien’s character Aragorn is Gilraen, and that his lady love Arwen’s mother was Celebrian.  I know that Princess Emma of France was told when she came to England to be betrothed that her name was too outlandish, and that they made her change it to Aelfgifu.  I can rattle off the first line of Little Women and I remember that the title character in the book Heidi is five years old when the book begins and has curly black hair.  I know that it was common practice among the gentry in the time of Henry VIII to wear a small piece of fur next to their skin to attract the fleas to one spot.  The first word I ever read all by myself was “goat” and I was four years old.  I can tell you that the very first Viking raid was at the monastary on the island of Lindisfarne on June 8, 793, and even that the monastary was founded by St. Aidan.  Who the heck remembers that kind of stuff?  I don’t know what today’s date is though, unless I look at the computer, and I can’t even tell you what I ate for breakfast this morning.  Did I eat breakfast?  Did I eat lunch?  Why don’t I know that?  I’m not sure.  I’m not particularly hungry, so perhaps I ate something at some time.  Hope I took my pills.

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