When I visited Mom this week, I wanted so badly to tell her about the new version of West Side Story. Under different circumstances, we’d have gone together to the theatre to see this new, bright, flamboyant version of this beloved musical. She would have loved it. As she taught me to. It reminded me again of all I have lost to this disease. Instead, I arrived with my high energy level to cajole her into smiling, singing, and laughing with me. And, it worked! We had a lovely

I grew up singing John Prines’ song “Dear Abby,” a humorous look at the kinds of people who write to advice columnists. Be satisfied with who you are and what you have, the song implies. Of course, Calvin of Calvin and Hobbes fame, takes a different perspective. His suggestion: all the whiny people of the world should just suck it up and stop whining. If I were writing an advice column about Alzheimer’s, I’d tell you to learn from my mistakes. I’ve made plenty in taking care

Mom’s sister, my Auntie Barbara, is visiting from London. It is great to see her. She is a wild, funny, woman with strong opinions and a quirky view of the world. She is always laughing, a real glass-half-full personality. When they were younger, she and my mom had a close, loving relationship. Even though they’ve lived apart most of their adult lives, they’ve always been in touch and visited each other when they can. Mom understands what a sister is supposed to be: someone y