Too much news

This has been a busy week, first week of classes, getting ready for an NIH meeting, students back on campus, faculty meetings back on the calendar....and so many interesting news stories to choose from. Here are 3 that I'll talk about today or tomorrow:

The Tiger Mother, a book about extreme parenting
Academically Adrift, a book about how universities fail students
The death of Sargent Shriver

I guess I'll start with the last, because it is the one I have the least to say about. Shriver is someone I had only a passing knowledge of or interest in. I have always been fascinated with the ideas of the Peace Corps, but that was the extent of my background on Shriver.

The thing, though, that struck me this week was thinking of Shriver in his final years and his struggle with Alzheimer's Disease. In an article published in The Atlantic, Scott Stossel, author of a Shriver biography, describes a visit with Shriver. In the visit Shriver regales Stossel with a story about an author who is writing a book about him. Shriver goes into great detail about the project, the ideas of this biographer, and Shriver's excitement about the project. It is only after several minutes that Stossel realizes that Shriver is discussing HIM and HIS book. It is one of the frustrations of AD that some events are remembered only in part--Shriver knew a book was being written and details about it, but did not connect the man standing in front of him as the author.

I had a similar experience this week with a friend. He also has early dementia and came to meet me for lunch. But, he forgot that the lunch date was with me. Instead he came to my office asking for my help in figuring out who he was supposed to be meeting. At first, I thought he was talking about a lunch date for another day, afterall he clearly knew who I was. After going through some names, I realized that it was our lunch date he was trying to remember. He remembered lunch, remembered me, just didn't remember that the two went together.

My reaction was mixed. At the time, we both laughed at the mistake and went on to have a pleasant lunch. Later, I was struck to realize the extent to which he depended on me, and trusted me. It seems like a rather large responsibility.

http://www.theatlantic.com/politics/archive/2011/01/the-good-works-of-sargent-shriver/69677/