Why can’t I sleep you ask?

Because I can’t remember the name of the fourth Ninja Turtle.

I got Leonardo, Michelangelo and Raphael, and then ….. Nothing.

I know that I can just reach over, grab my phone and Google my way to piece of mind, but I want to do this the old fashioned way:  I want to pull the memory out of my own mind.

I’ve become far too Google-dependent, as a sampling of my latest Googlings will attest:

Who sang the original version of “My Maria?”

What happened to Saul Goodman at the end of “Breaking Bad?”

How did Newton, MA get it’s name?

What year was Pope John Paul II shot?

How do you make a Malibu Bay Breeze?

My brain has become lazy because it no longer needs to retain trivial things.  Things like telephone numbers.

If I ever lost my phone and had to call someone for help, there are two n umbers that I could call: 911 and my parents home phone number.  That’s it. Other than my own cell/home/work numbers, I don’t know anyone else’s number.  I don’t even know my own children’s numbers.

So, I’m laying in the dark using  memory techniques to bring back the name of that blasted turtle.  And while I’m  at it, I might as well throw in the name of their rat teacher.

I start with what I know: it is the name of a Renaissance Artist so I start naming all of the Renaissance Artists I can remember:  DaVinci (doesn’t he have a code?), Michelangelo. (Who I confuse with DaVinci when playing Trivia Crack), and Raphael (I don’t remember a thing about him other than his name and that he is a Ninja Turtle). And… I’m stuck.

What about Rembrandt? Was he a Renaissance artist?  Even if he was, I don’t think he was a sewer turtle.

Since my knowledge of art history is lacking (art is my worst Trivia Crack categ ory), I need to use another technique.  On to self-hypnosis/regression.  I guess I AM using that psychology degree after all!

Its the late 1980’s, or early 90’s and I can see my sons watching the cartoon.  One of the turtles has a pizza addiction and one of them talks like a surfer dude.

Progressing, I can feel my bare feet stepping on one of the several out-of-action figures as a jet propelled pizza disc whizzes past my face.

The boys are firing their Ninja Turtle pizza shooters while wearing different colored bands around their heads to match the characters. I think one of them is purple.  Or maybe that’s just the bruise on the bottom of my foot.
They are sword fighting, nun-chuck wielding, pizza shooting maniacs. I see them running through the house and I can hear the voices of their childhood.  And laughter.

Taking the memory a little further, they are playing the Ninja Turtle Nintendo vid eo game with their friend, Andrew.  I can see and hear it all.  The laughter, the excitement of getting to the next level, the jumping around because they never sit still whether they are playing a video game, or they are in church.

Two hours has passed and I still can’t come up the 4th turtle’s name. I didn’t hear the boys say it.

So I give in and Google it.


I never would have come up with it.

Splinter was the rat teacher’s name, just in case you’re wondering.

I could go back to sleep, except I am enjoying this movie that is playing in my mind:  my sticky, loud, active, laughing, innocent boys, whose voices have yet to change, in that sweet spot of life called childhood.

I will live to Google another day.


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