I'm amazed afresh everyday that I remember enough to breath and move about.  Actually, sometimes I forget to move anything except my fingers, sitting and typing until my butt and the rest of me is dessicated and numb.  That's more because I'm engrossed with whatever has been set before me.

This isn't about forgetting that I went into the other room for a tissue or glass of water, became distracted and returned without achieving my movement's goals, nor even forgetting what I ate last week, what movie or television stars are now dead, the title of a book or movie, or what we gave to Mom or the mailman for Christmas last year.  I accept that I forget these things.  Some thought usually return the forgotten matters back to me after a day or two, often at 2 or 3 in the morning.  

This is about the history and other knowledge school bestowed on me that has slipped my gray matter's quicksilver grasp.  Today I was reading an opinion piece by James Atlas ("Is This The End?", NY Times) about sunken cities, reflecting that someday New York city will probably be under the sea.  He cited several other places, including the Lycian coast of Turkey.  From there, I wandered off to remember what I'd forgotten about Lycia, Croesus, Solon and the Oracle of Delphi.  How much I enjoyed learning about them decades ago.  Now I barely remember their existence.  

Amusing it was, reading of Solon's political efforts to reconcile Athenians, and about a country divided by haves and have nots, and their resulting political agenda.  Sound familiar at all?  

It's amazing how much many of us forget from the past, where history can teach us that if we pay attention, we might just save ourselves.