Note Taking

Things I'm Trying to Remember

My top strength on the Gallup StrengthsFinder is Input. People with the Input strength love to take in information. They collect and curate books, ideas, quotations, facts, and even relationships. They are often a resource for their teams, storing information that may be useful in the future.

Of course, every strength has its downsides. In this age of information accessibility, people with the Input strength may become overwhelmed by all that they collect. Eventually, retrieval becomes a challenge. When you store ideas or information without knowing how you will eventually use them, you have to remember they are there when a need arises.

I’m surprised by how often I go to the bookshelf in my office when a student’s question prompts me to seek out something I read 10 years ago. The books on my bookshelf are physical reminders of relevant ideas. Even if I can’t remember title and author, I may remember the color of the book or its location on my bookshelf.

This strategy has become harder with digital resources. Rarely do I say, “Oh yes, I can picture the PDF of that article, the one that looks like every other PDF from that journal.” However, digital resources do have the benefit of searchability. So if I’m looking for an article about callings, I can search for callings across all my digital files (which, for me, returns a huge number of documents). Remembering that the study I want to refer to is about musicians, zookeepers, or priests provides a more tractable set of results.

I started a new note in Notion last weekend. Notion is the app that I use to track projects, to do’s, and random notes. I need a better system. Maddie said Obsidian is far superior to Notion. I’ve downloaded it twice. It intimidates me. Even the little icon on my desktop - a purple gem against a black background - feels out of my league.

Honestly, my life isn’t that complicated. Any reasonable app would work if I used it consistently. But things get busy. I stop being consistent about putting notes into the systems I’ve created and just start accumulating Apple notes, random post-its, a few ideas on the ideas page of my journal, and a bunch of screenshots.

One of my PhD students rarely takes notes. “I have a really good memory,” he tells me, and he’s not wrong. I’ve never had a good memory. I’m not sure I would remember where I grew up if my brother Frank weren’t here to tell me. I remember a few details with amazing clarity - jumping on the trampoline in gym class, trips to the St. Louis Zoo, shooting off fireworks on July 3 in our front yard, riding bikes up and down our gravel road - but so many more have faded and blended into a vibe of a childhood rather than a series of images.

I’m sure I’m not alone in this. I’m 54 years old. It’s natural that memories from long ago have started to fade. But as I sat down to write this Substack, I started writing about a roundtable I facilitated last week on the Social Impact of AI. The details came together in an essay relatively easily, and that’s when I remembered that I had written about this event last week.

It’s hard to pinpoint the cause of my unpredictable memory - Parkinson’s, menopause, or getting older are all possibilities. But what I’ve observed is that trying to remember everything leaves me feeling increasingly overwhelmed, even panicked. So I decided I just need to keep a running log of my life. That’s why I started a new note in my Notion app. Notion’s AI set it up for me. It has sections to record my focus for the month, my top priorities, and my biggest wins. Below those sections, I started two running lists - things I need to remember and things I did each day.

During the first 3 days of the week, I had 12 meetings, worked on 5 research projects and 3 administrative initiatives, sent or replied to 66 emails, and prepared for my trip to Boston College on Thursday and Friday. (More about that next week.) Perhaps it’s no surprise that I can’t keep all of the threads straight in my head. Perhaps the biggest surprise is that I remember anything at all.

I spent some time this week considering whether an AI assistant could solve my problems. Mike sent me an article about a guy who had built one for his wife. With access to all of her systems (emails, notes, etc.), the AI reminds her of important information just as she needs it and even makes sure she doesn’t forget dress-up days at her kid’s preschool. Honestly, the whole idea makes me tired, and opening up my life to an AI agent makes me anxious. But this idea has stuck around. It has come up in multiple conversations over the past few days. I have done a bit more research. And apparently, Mike has already started building it. Is this a tool that can substitute for my memory as it declines? Or will my life become a scary sci-fi movie? Stay tuned

As I was writing the previous paragraph, a thought emerged from my long-term memory. Didn’t I read a book about taking things out of your head? Maybe it’s called the external brain? A few searches took me to Tiago Forte’s Building a Second Brain, which I read in January 2023. I remember the basics - create an electronic system for information, but make sure to curate it. You can keep everything, even in a second brain. I write a lot of notes in my journals, but I don’t digitize them. If writing it down doesn’t make the idea stick, I trust the universe will bring it back if I really need it.

When Mike and I first moved in together and were combining our stuff, I remember asking him how many drawers he needed in the file cabinet. I had been carrying files around in boxes through our college days and was excited to nestle a file cabinet in our spare room and fill it with organized folders. Mike looked at me, confused.

“How many files do you have - bank statements, tax returns, report cards, things like that? If you show me your files, I can estimate how many drawers you’ll need. Of course, you’ll want room for expansion. It’s better to start with drawers that are about half full. There’s an adjustable metal back that you can move up to keep your files upright and move back when you need more space.” I explained.

“Oh, I keep my important papers in my underwear drawer,” he told me.

I breathed deeply - in through the nose, out through the mouth - as he showed me his “filing system.” All the most important documents were there: birth certificate, Social Security card, insurance, and a few legal papers. He kept them there so they didn’t get mixed in with other random papers. He didn’t need to know where everything was. He just needed to find the important things.

Gradually, we’ve expanded our filing systems (now mostly electronic), but we still have one file folder labeled “Legal Documents” that holds all our most important papers. It lives in a file drawer, and both kids know where it is.

What’s worth remembering? What can I find again if I need it? Technology has shifted the answers to those questions. But here’s what I know. Yesterday evening, as we were walking back from dinner, Mike and I saw two boys, maybe 3 or 4 years old, standing at the edge of the sidewalk. One wore a Batman cape, and the other wore a Batman mask. The man standing nearby - presumably the man who had negotiated this sharing of the Batman costume - was waiting patiently by a stroller occupied by an even younger boy. The Batman-clad boys each had a takeout cup of water. They looked at the man for permission. “Yes, you can do it right there,” he said. At the same instant, they both poured the water from their cups on the curb and giggled with delight at the small puddle they made. Mike and I laughed too and gave the Batmen a nod of respect. I’d like to use my remaining memory for moments like that. Maybe AI can handle the rest.

Photos: Random screen shots from this week