My niece was married over the weekend at a grand wedding, and Michael and I flew to New York for the festivities. One of the pleasures of the occasion for me was spending time with my mother, who turned 96 in January, and with my Aunt Maxine, who’s 98. She and Mom had their share of estrangements over the years – sibling rivalry to the max – but now that they both have memory impairment they’ve forgotten that they were ever mad at each other. See that? Dementia does have its silver linings, as I write in You’d Better Not Die, and Mom and Maxine are the perfect example. They’re both still sharp – smart, articulate, intellectually curious. They look so youthful it’s almost scary. And they laugh easily and often, just the way they used to. What’s changed is that there’s no tension between them, no simmering animosity, only affection. It’s a beautiful thing. Nowadays, they get together often for lunch. They repeat the same stories and ask the same questions, and if you tell them something they won’t remember what you said. But I sure hope I’m doing half as well as they are if I make it to my 90s. I mean look at them. Seriously.