When she went to visit my father today, my mother took with her a photograph of his parents. This she did on suggestion of the nursing home staff, who are doing their best to liven up the place. In fact, both my mother and I are often surprised by the passion they put into it in spite of the meager results. My father immediately perked up when he saw the picture, she reported happily when I called her after her visit. He pointed at his mother and said: “Milena.” This is my mother’s name, though. He can rarely remember it when she asks him for it, and she does it often enough. By the way, his mother’s name was Maria. Then he pointed at his father and said: “Daddy.” However, he could not remember his father’s name. Still, my mother and I were very happy about his performance today.