Stop me if you’ve heard this before. I don’t know about you, but I’ve reached the point in my life where I repeat stories. The problem for me is that I don’t always realize it until mid-stream and then I stumble over my words trying to add a new spin or try (horribly unsuccessfully) to use it as a segue into something else. Most of the time, I end up with my foot lodged firmly in my mouth. Science tells us that there are those who instinctively eat dirt in an attempt to add necessary minerals to their diet and perhaps that’s the reason for my repeated hoof-in-mouth disease. It’s a vitamin deficiency. Yeah, that’s it.
Around my 11th birthday I started openly rolling my eyes at adults who would repeat the same stories and I solemnly vowed that it would never be me. Words have always been sacred to me and the idea that someone would waste them like that was highly irritating. Still is, but now the beam is in my eye and I get on my own nerves.
Years ago, as a newly licensed teenaged driver, I looked for every opportunity to get behind the wheel, even if it was for a short trip to the grocery store. The independence that driving allowed was intoxicating and I begged to be sent on errands whenever possible. Sitting at the kitchen table with pen and pad in hand, I eagerly took notes as an “older” relative (who was probably the age I am now) dictated her shopping list. At first, everything was moving along smoothly as she listed the first four or five items, the first item being 1 lb. of hamburger meat. As she added to the list, she repeated her request for 1 lb. of hamburger meat. I pointed out the duplication, which only served to annoy her. By the time I’d written down a dozen of her requests, she’d repeated 1 lb. of hamburger meat four more times, but I decided to stop correcting her, for fear of losing my driving privilege. Eventually, I had 37 items written on the list and 13 of them: hamburger meat — in 1 lb. increments. Do you ever remember a time in your life where you were trapped in a poorly ventilated room with a raging case of inappropriate giggles? If so, then you know how hard it is to suppress them once they start. [If not, I’m sorry for you, as it is one of life’s most deliciously painful sensations that should not be missed.] When asked to read the list back, I did – saving the 13 pounds of hamburger meat for last, in an explosive burst of relieved laughter. Would you be surprised if I told you I was never asked to grocery shop again?
For close to three decades I was pretty smug about my ability to dance lightly on my feet when it came to conversation. While my mind might not have been a highly polished steel trap, it was pretty efficient when it came to remembering details and not covering the same ground twice. Not so much after the fourth decade began and even less so as the fifth looms down the pike. My eyesight may not be perfect either, but there is no mistaking the eye-rolling of the unlined faces of your listeners when you’ve unwittingly repeated yourself. Mind reading isn’t one of my many mad skills, but I know what’s going through their dewy minds, as they tune me out after I’ve said something more than once. Or twice. Mostly, because I’ve been there and done that. More than once. Did I say I’d been there?
While I may have found it exasperating over the years, I’ve also learned that the whole repeating thing isn’t all that bad. As people age, there is a certain amount of comfort that comes with telling the old tales again and again. It isn’t always about memory loss, it is about loss of memories – and the retelling keeps those memories alive. Now and again, I ask people to tell me their once-upon-a-time stories one more time, occasionally so I can archive them, but mostly so I can see the sweet smiles that remembering brings to their faces. My heart breaks that I did not learn to do this long ago, before my 107 year old grandmotherly Annie died – having lived through three centuries I would give anything to hear her repeat herself again, no matter what stories she retold. Where cultures used to gather around to listen to the stories of the wise, aged sages so their stories would live on through retelling – we roll our eyes and walk away.
Of course, not everything that comes out of our mouths, pens or keyboards is worth repeating. Day in and day out, forced in our jobs and lives to do the same hamster on a wheel routine, it just stands to reason that it all leads to conversational repetition. Plus, the same old/same old can affect your ability to distinguish one day or activity from another. As a result, you end up saying a lot of the same things again, partly from having done or said them just a day or so ago. There is a reason the movie Groundhog Day made 70 million dollars when it came out 1993 and why the phrase is used as part of the American lexicon to describe a day in the life. We all know the sensation of doing the same thing today that we did the day before and most likely will do again tomorrow.
I’m not sure who said it, but one of my favorite quotes, “As I said before, I never repeat myself” sums up my opinion on the matter. Even more so, the one that says, “Ten rules for getting rid of the blues: Go out and do something for someone else – repeat it nine times.” It’s pretty good advice, that we should all repeat. Then feel free to tell people about it. Repeatedly. They may roll their eyes, but you and I know its okay. It’s not 13 pounds of hamburger meat, one pound at a time.