All of my life I have been running. In our family album there is a picture of me in diapers with my left arm in a sling. Big tears run down my cheeks. Not yet a year old, I had been running in my aunt’s house, slipped on the high gloss and broken my arm.

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An aging priest, an 80-year-old husband and a professor emerita do not look away as aging destroys the memories of those they hold dear.

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“You are the eyes and ears of the neighborhood,” the police chief tells us at the neighborhood watch meeting. “Law enforcement counts on you to report any unusual activity.”

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