I can't remember my children's names, but I can remember the starting lineup of the 1979 Cleveland Indians

Look, I have no idea why it is I know this, I just do: Exactly 26 years ago today, on May 2, 1987, I took the SATs at Charles F. Brush High School in Lyndhurst, Ohio.

There is no practical reason for me to retain this information. In fact, I would just as soon it move out of my brain so I have room for more important stuff, such as key facts about my medical history and the places where stuff goes in the kitchen so my wife doesn't yell at me for not putting it away correctly.

But there it is, stuck somewhere in the recesses of my mind: the exact month and date when I took the SATs.

It will never go away. I know this. It will never be replaced by something useful.

Why does this happen to us? Why don't we remember where we put, say, our car keys? Or our heart pills? Or our children?

Why, instead of our spouse's birthday, can we remember the name of the kid who came over and stole our cornflower-colored crayon while we were busy drawing a picture in second grade? Why? Why?

Why do I remember the name of every elementary school teacher I had, both main classroom teachers and special subject teachers?

Miss Marshall and Mrs. Chermely taught me art from first through sixth grade, I can tell you that, but I'm a little fuzzy on my online bank account password. And the whereabouts of the Tupperware container I need and just washed yesterday.

Can I remember whether my Honda needs an oil change? No, I cannot. Can I remember the movie Terry and I saw on our first date in 1986? Yes, I can. ("Down and Out in Beverly Hills")

Can I remember our house WiFi password when someone asks for it? You're funny. Of course I can't. Can I remember the exact layout of the house across the street on Harding Drive where my friends Billy and Jason lived? Down to the last square foot.

I have nothing resembling what you might call "useful memory." I recall random stuff, and I recall it quickly. Which has served me well only the two times I appeared on game shows. (NOTE: I went weeks and weeks without mentioning the game show thing, and now I finally caved in. Sorry.)

Other than the occasional national television appearance, this ability to regurgitate the jokes in almost any given episode of "Mork and Mindy," for example, has had exactly zero real value for me.

Like right now, I should remember what my point was in writing this post. But I don't. All I can tell you is that I'm pretty sure Andre Thornton batted clean-up for the '79 Indians. I hope that helps you in some way.