One of my favorite people, my grandmother, began to exhibit signs of diminished mental capacity when she was in her eighties. It was a point of distress for all of our family members but particularly for my father with whom she lived. Against her wishes, he had moved her into his home because she had the habit of going to a job from which she had long since retired without any clothes. She always remembered her handbag and her hat and sometimes a slip. But she somehow couldn't remember the rest of her work attire. This is for her. And for my dad who had to smile sheepishly at the police and admit, "Yes, she's mine", when she wandered away again and again.

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