Let’s say you’re standing in front of the glitzy and colossal Christmas tree in Rockefeller Center in New York City. And since you can’t pay attention to everything, you’ll be able to remember some aspects of what is happening before you but not others. Your memory isn’t a video camera, recording a constant stream of every sight and sound you’re exposed to - you can only capture and retain what you pay attention to. I couldn’t find my car not because I had a horrible memory, amnesia, dementia or Alzheimer’s - I couldn’t find my car because I never paid attention to where I had parked it in the first place. Relieved, embarrassed and sweating, I wanted to blame the whole experience on my memory, but the neuroscientist in me knew better. And noticing requires two things: perception (seeing, hearing, smelling, feeling) and attention. If we want to remember something, above all else we need to notice. I was just about to report my car stolen when I stumbled upon it in 4B. I knew I was in the right garage, but that’s all. I was sure I had parked on the fourth floor, but maybe it was the third or the fifth? And did I park in section A, B or C? No idea.
I paced up and down ramps, becoming increasingly frustrated and hopeless. When I returned to the garage, I walked to where I thought I had parked, but my car wasn’t there. I arrived on time, gave my 45-minute talk, answered questions and signed books. But worried I was late, I raced out of there without getting a photo and, worse, without consciously registering where I had parked. Normally I take a photo of the floor number or the row letter whenever I park in a garage. I was scheduled to give a talk a couple of blocks away and had hoped to arrive earlier.
Not long ago, when I was somewhere in my mid-40s, I drove to Cambridge, Massachusetts, from Cape Cod and parked my car in a garage.
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