The last time I bought a new pair of sunglasses was 1997, at the upscale Highland Park Village in Dallas. I remember picking up a roundish, Oliver Peoples, tortoise frame with clear glass. Using my best Marilyn Monroe imitation I put them on and turned to my mother and said, “Don’t you think these make me look smarter?”
In all seriousness mother replied, “No, I don’t.” While I knew something was wrong, I didn’t know dementia had already laid claim to mother’s brain. My attempt at humor had bombed.