 It's amazing the things that will pop into a human brain. Take this morning, for example. I found myself whistling the theme song to Captain Kangaroo as I wandered about the house. I didn't even know that I knew the Captain's theme song until it was tooting out through my pursed lips—but suddenly, there it was.
So where on earth does this stuff come from? How do we store this relatively useless information away for so many years, then call upon it when we least expect it? And what is it that triggers the wake-up call in the first place?
Those are the very interesting questions that we will deal with today, and questions that, frankly, I have no clue how to answer.
But questions came up nonetheless when I started chirping the Captain's song.
"What the heck are you whistling?" questioned the youngest.
"Don't you recognize the theme song to 'Captain Kangaroo' when you hear it?" I asked in somewhat disbelief.
"Who the heck is Captain Kangaroo?" he said, questioning my sanity more than anything else.
"You remember," I explained. "The Captain, Mr. Greenjeans, the rabbit, the moose, the talking tree ... "
"Sounds weird," he said.
"Yeah," I snapped defensively, "I guess it's just not as normal as a 6-foot-4 yellow bird and a grouchy green monster who lives in a garbage can."
He just shook his head and walked away (and I swear I heard him softly singing, "Can you tell me how to get, how to get to Sesame Street?").
I guess it was one of those generational things.
But at least the banter with the kid erased the Captain's theme from my head for the time being. That doesn't mean, though, that it was gone forever, or that my brain was rid of all of its useless information. Unfortunately, it's packed with the stuff!
I can't remember anything from three years of high school Spanish (well, maybe un poco, Señor Garza), but 30 years after graduation I still remember my high school fight song.
I can sing the entire Gilligan's Island theme song (which may be useful some day if I'm ever on a deserted isle playing Trivial Pursuit with my fellow castaways), but I can't remember my stockbroker's phone number (OK, so I don't exactly have a stockbroker—just a life insurance guy named Norman ... but I don't know his number either!).
I can name the 1962 World Series starting lineups for both the New York Yankees and San Francisco Giants, and I can name all of the Seven Dwarfs (Sleepy, Doc, Dopey, Grumpy, Sneezy... um, Bashful... and, uh, Sleezy, I think).
Why do we know these things, and why do they suddenly pop into our heads? Are they there all the time? Are they taking up room that could otherwise be used to store vitally important information, like, for example, the recipe for Tollhouse chocolate chip cookies?
For whatever reason, some things stick (like, "Ho, ho, ho ... Green Giant") and some things don't (like anything from World Civ in my sophomore year of college). And when we least hope to think up this stuff, there it is, filling our heads.
The bottom line is, the brain is capable of soaking up anything—it all depends on what we choose to fill it with. Mine, unfortunately, is filled up with trivial things learned early in life that are blocking out important stuff I should know today (like how to program the VCR).
But if they ever award a doctoral degree for useless information, I'll have my Ph.D. And if the Captain Kangaroo theme song is ever the answer on Final Jeopardy, I'm bettin' the farm!
The mind is a terrible thing to waste.
Du, du, du, dum ... du, du, du, dum ... dah-dah-dah, dah-dah-dah, dah, dah dah ...
Want to talk? Call me at 408.354.3110, ext. 31, or drop me a note at dsparrer@svcn.com.
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