Miles Davis and my old brain

Last week I, through a series of events that I will not go into, came into posession of a 3 valve sliderless, bass trombone. It is an old instrument that used to belong to my neighbor who played it in a navy band at Pearl Harbor. Any how in researching the instrument company that made the big horn, I discovered that Miles Davis and a host of other upper-mucky-mucks of jazz, big band, and classical performers also got their instruments from the Martin Band Instrument Company of Elkhorn Indiana.
A couple of days past and I decided to regail my mom with what I had found out about my new aquisition. Well as I came to talk about the high quality of the company and some of the people who also used various instruments from that company my mind drew a blank on Miles Davis. I could not remember his name. I could remember him and Quincy Jones, I could recall albums, his face on the cover of his last CD Doo-Bop, but as for his name it was a complete blank slate.
I had to go online to jog my memory.
We all forget stuff all the time. But it is kind of disconcerting to forget something or someone that is significant. I have recognized in myself and others of my age that their is a tendancy to retell the same story to the same people as if we have not already told the story. The the conversations also are either about the present or the past and the future is talked of less and less.
All the more reason to ride the tube, or jump off the bridge, or do other things new and dangerously life affirming. Because it would be easy, too easy, to draw a line at the high-water mark of our lives and say "well we did do that back then but couldn't do it now."
I want to jump off the bridge when I am sixty and seventy and as long as I possibly can.
It may not help me from forgetting Miles Davis, but it might give me a larger database of stories to retell.