There are about 18 who eat lunch in Mother's "neighborhood," all with some degree of memory impairment, and today when I went it was no different. Dot began demanding her dessert even before the salad was served. Eleanor talked loudly to no one in particular about subjects known only to her. Russell sat quietly, looking down at his plate, missing his wife, across from Frances, who missed her, too. Carl was with his wife at another table, and she was reminding him that he was a mess and couldn’t do anything right. "Pick up your fork, Carl. You eat with a fork!" His hearing aid was off.
