thirteen hours straight driving and I’m home again. I was horrible yesterday, absolutely horrible to my mother. Who of course does not remember how horrible I was. Which makes me wonder how many other people are horrible to people with dementia. I was accompanied on my long drive by a Jeffrey Deaver book on tape about blogs and murders and those crosses on the side of the road. Which got me to thinking about a blog about The Forgotten. Like stories of the forgotten who are forgetting. Told by those who are not forgetting the forgetting. Like the children of the forgetting who our society has forgotten. As my friend Tina says Lois stop tripping. Really though. Who is going to remember them all.