Frustrated by Memory Slippages?

I started making notes for this piece when a jotted phrase felt vaguely familiar. Tracking back, yep, almost a decade ago I tackled the subject of memory loss. In my fifties at the time, I was precociously ahead of my cohort, owing to premature menopause.

Now, as my friends and I approach, hit or put behind our 70th birthdays, I am no longer an oddity. As best I can tell, short-term memory loss is a way of life for most of us.

The other day while speaking with a 75-year-old friend who'd racked up three missed appointments in a single day, all owing to memory slips, I started riffing about my strategies for avoiding such embarrassments. A decade into creating and fine-tuning practices that help me compensate for memory outages, I thought I'd share a couple with you in hopes that any one of them will keep you from leaving a friend sitting in a restaurant wondering where the hell you are.

For me, the most important strategy is the one that each day closes out my work day. I open my calendar, look at what's on it for the next day, then grab a scrap of paper and list each of those items in chronological order. This little exercise has two purposes. It reacquaints me with what's on deck for the next day and it provides a handy hour-by-hour reminder that I keep beside my computer throughout the day.

The items listed in ink on my calendar are events I plan to attend, social engagements I've scheduled or phone calls I need to make. The penciled items are reminders of important events in loved ones' lives, things like "Claire's surgery," "Emily's due date," "Tom's test results." This way I remember to follow up by text or phone.

Two sidenotes: the calendar I mentioned is a hard-copy, purse-friendly booklet that enables me see a whole month at a time. Props to those who can comfortably maintain a cellphone calendar. But while I'm a speed demon on a full-size keyboard, I've never gotten the hang of hunting and pecking on a cellphone. It's just one annoying typo after the next, and altogether frustrating.

And that scrap of paper on which I jot the following day's schedule? It's the back side of a used piece of printer paper that I've cut into small squares and stacked in a plastic cube. So environmentally friendly! I'm not just repurposing paper. I'm saving the planet by reducing my carbon footprint!

Okay, back to my list. There it sits by my computer throughout the day, providing little memory jogs of what lies ahead in the coming hours. Is that enough to navigate the day successfully?

Nope. While my ability to remember what comes next is increasingly porous, my ability to focus on what I'm doing right now is just fine. My acumen for work, in other words, remains intact. I can write. I can edit. I can teach. I can coach. The problem is, if I'm doing any one of those things, I risk becoming so immersed in the immediate task that I lose track of time.

So, trick No. 2: I set alarms throughout the day. If I know, for instance, that I have a working phone call scheduled for 3:00, I set an iPhone alarm for 2:55. Granted, I may need to look at my desk list to see what's on deck. But at least I'm primed to tackle what comes next — on time.

I have other lists for other purposes. I like, for instance, to send birthday cards. (Sure, an outpouring of "HBD!" Facebook messages is sweet, but they're also repetitive and impersonal.) So, I keep a month-by-month list of birthdays in a computer file. As a month draws toward its close, I transfer the next-month's dates to a small pad that sits on my desk. Once I actually send a card, I cross the celebrant's name off the list. (Two days after mailing a card, I sometimes don't remember if I've already posted a birthday greeting; yes, my memory is that bad.)

For years now, friends and relatives have marveled how amazing it is that I always remember their birthday. I assure you, I don't. But I'm always glad to know that receiving a card has provided pleasure to someone I care about. (It gives me no pleasure at all, however, when the recipient tells me that I was the only person who thought to send a card.)

Other lists? There is, of course, the list I keep in the kitchen (on recycled scraps of paper!) of items that need replenishing. As soon as I notice the milk carton growing light, I add milk to the list. I've even trained my husband to add items as they run short. A triumph!

I have a separate kitchen list for Costco runs. I make those trips, at best, every other month. No way I'll remember why I shlepped out to Costco if I don't have a reminder in hand.

I also keep running computer lists of TV shows, films and books recommended by friends. Once I've consumed a recommendation, I expunge it from the list. In the over-the-top category, I also keep a list of book titles as I knock them off my to-read list. This ensures that I don't end up rereading titles I've already tackled, something I'm particularly prone to do with authors I revisit often. (I can barely remember a title I read last month. How the hell can I remember if I read a 50-year-old Anne Tyler novel?)

My final tip: a cellphone is a marvelous tool for jogging memory. In the notes section of the phone entry for my favorite wine shop, for instance, I have a list of the assorted wines I like. For entries that I use infrequently, but may need on a moment's notice, say, Uber, New Jersey Transit or my preferred air carrier, I have shorthand notes no one but I can decipher that remind me of my log-in I.D. and password.

All this may sound like a lot of work, but, hey, it works for me. I can't remember (ahem) the last time I blew a lunch date or forgot to call someone. With the exception of my daughter (who is convinced I have no memory at all!), the people in my world know me to be a functional, reliable human being.

Jill Smolowe is the author of "Four Funerals and a Wedding: Resilience in a Time of Grief." To learn more about her book and her grief and divorce coaching, visit jillsmolowe.com. Read More