My Human Hard Drive

They say marriage is falling in love and promising till death us do part. It’s being parenting partners and partners in life. My husband has been all of these to me. But the function I’ve been appreciating more and more lately is when he is my human hard drive.

My husband is a wealth of knowledge when it comes to caring for the plants and trees in our yard, when the furnace needs a new filter, and how to get somewhere he drove once ten years ago. But he’s also my go-to for remembering words I can’t. I’ve always had a terrible memory for names. At this stage of my life, specific places and things get misplaced as well.

Just yesterday we went to a movie. In the ads before the movie started, I leaned over and whispered, “That guy looks like he could be the brother of the guy on that show. Josh Somebody, who tries to discover things.”

It was still bugging me when we stopped at a place for lunch. I asked if he knew who I meant.

“Sure, Josh Gates on Expedition Unknown.”

As conversation continued, we were trying to recall the last time we’d been to that restaurant. Was it last Christmas with my family?

“No,” I said. “I think we ate at the one by the airport. What’s the name of it?”

If I can’t remember the name of it, it’s pretty hard to talk about it. But he’s so used to my clues, he usually gets it.

He’s especially useful for celebrity monikers. When we’re choosing a show, he may ask, “Who’s in it?”

My reply is frequently something like, “I can’t think of her name. You know she was in the movie where she and her sister were witches and she used to be married to Tom Hanks – No! Cruise?”

Sometimes he waits to see if it will come to me, but eventually he’ll put me out of my misery and just tell me.

I’m not completely senile. If we met once five years ago and had a good conversation, I can remember that we met at the tire place and you told me about your stepson’s nephew’s gall bladder surgery. Just don’t expect me to recall your name.

If I really do develop dementia someday, it might be hard to tell. But I’ll bet my husband will be the first one who notices.


For a mushier view of marriage, read Valentine. If you’re hungry, try A Marriage of Meals.



21 thoughts on “My Human Hard Drive

  1. Husbands have many, many admirable traits!
    Mine often thinks of things I don’t — like practical reasons not to buy a certain house that I figure would be a great purchase, or something easier to make for supper than the grand labour-intensive meal I was planning.
    It’s really helpful to have that “other” viewpoint.
    And someone to remember things we don’t!

    Liked by 2 people

  2. This was really funny! Your conversational style made for a nice bubbly read, and I was nodding along at many points I could relate to. Remembering names – what’s the deal with that?!

    Liked by 1 person

  3. I loved the title!For lucky ones, marriage means a default hard drive and you are one of those.I used to be my husband’s memory card bit I’ve started to lost it too:(

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Ah! He knows whatsis name that guy who got the… you know with yellow spots, his Mothers sister went to Sunday School with your Nan. They had one of those thingy’s you screw to the workbench, tsll with cropped hair tattoos down one leg. “Stan, you mean Stan”. *you pause, cock your head on one side, reach over and kiss his cheek* “I knew you’d know him”.

    Liked by 1 person

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