Alice

Alice

 

For my mother’s seventy sixth birthday, she wanted spaghetti and meatballs and vanilla cake with chocolate icing. We gave her a small black kitten with white spots. When we answered the birthday song question “how old are you now?” for her, she gave us a new theme song for the year.

“Seventy six trombones? When did that happen?”

Seventy six trombones led the big parade. My mother remembers all the songs from the Music Man and countless others from her youth. The present is more elusive. She doesn’t always remember that she has Alzheimer’s. But sometimes she does. And she always sings.

When she sings this bit from Babes in Arms:

      It seems we stood and talked like this before 
     We looked at each other in the same way then,
     But I can’t remember where or when.
     The clothes you’re wearing are the clothes you wore.
     The smile you are smiling you were smiling then,
     But I can’t remember where or when.

She stops and she smiles and says, “That should be the Alzheimer’s theme song.”

Aliceheimer’s.

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