Posted in Philosophy

Moral Fiber Held Hostage by Power

Morals are the guardrails of daily life. When laws are slow, ambiguous, or absent, morals keep neighbors from becoming predators. Yes—morals change, even within a single culture. Some call that “decline.” Others call it “advancement.” When morality ceases to be a shared thread and becomes a private permit, I’m only limited by my moral limits, which are the only ones that matter; social order is at risk.

We don’t have to guess whether moral change can be good. Slavery was defended based on profit and convenient readings of scripture. Interracial marriage was illegal in many states until 1967. Divorce was branded a moral failure, even as an escape from violence. Women who chose careers over homemaking were dismissed as selfish, as if ambition were a vice.

Even our smaller moral judgments have shifted. Tattoos and piercings, once shorthand for “irresponsible,” “a drunken folly,” or signs of criminal association, are now common, meaningful personal statements and art. Online dating used to carry a whiff of desperation, but now it’s ordinary, and even practical.

So the issue isn’t the changing landscape of morality. The issue is the persistent temptation of power to usurp it. It’s when a determined few, or an individual, insist that their morals should govern everyone else, while exempting themselves from the burden of society’s norms of consistency.

That’s when moral limits replace moral fiber. Moral fiber restrains the self. Moral limits wielded by the powerful are used to restrain others. When leaders claim to be the sole keepers of the moral framework, history doesn’t reward them with harmony. Instead, it rewards them with conflict, mistrust, and the slow degradation of the very moral foundation they claim to defend. And those who mainly want comfort, access, and advantage will often go along—because chameleon morality is profitable when you’re standing near the throne.

In a healthy society, the moral posture of elected officials should broadly reflect the people they serve—all of them, not just the loyal, the loud, and/or those who bend a knee. Moral diversity isn’t wrong; it’s necessary. But a line is crossed when one imposes their morality on others without dialogue. Majority rule matters, but so do minority rights—because “shared morality” without protection becomes tyranny with faux-moral backing.

Morals will keep evolving as life does. Moral fiber isn’t loud. It shows up in restraint, fairness, and the humility to admit, “I could be wrong.” A society isn’t shaken because people argue about morals; it is when the powerful stop being bound by anything—when “values” become a weapon, not a compass.

Find your moral fiber, but don’t stop there. Demand it—publicly and relentlessly—from anyone who seeks authority over your life. If they won’t live by civil standards, treat their immoral talk as propaganda to be challenged and rejected. One certainty: moral limits cease with mortality.  NeverFearTheDream   simplebender.com

Joy in Alzheimer’s
W.C. Barron
Lap Around the Sun
Daily Steps Forward — W.C. Barron
Posted in Philosophy

Friends are a Choice

True friends are solid rock under your feet. Those who befriend for personal gain are shifting desert sands.

You’re born into a family. There’s a bond there; sometimes warm, sometimes strained, but it exists whether you asked for it or not. Friends are different. Friends are chosen. You choose them, and more importantly, they reciprocate that choice.

Some friends come from our reckless, impetuous youth. Some from our careers. Some from neighborhoods, teams, projects, and the accidents of geography. Time and distance shuffle the cast, but the real ones don’t become strangers. They steady you. They don’t demand a performance. They can disagree without turning you into a defendant. You remember them fondly, and when you see them again after years, you can still pick up mid-sentence, as if time never got a vote. That’s friendship. Not constant contact. An unshakable bond. These are the people you brought into each other’s lives, not for gain but for mutual support.

But there are others. People who orbit you for their own advantage. Their support is there—until it costs them something. Their loyalty is conditional. Their kindness comes with a receipt. They keep score, question motives, and disappear when you’re inconvenient or irrelevant. These relationships can be helpful, even mutually beneficial, but they’re transactions, not friendships. The difference between them is where people get hurt. With transactional allies, trust is offered in exchange for leverage.

Choose wisely, not selfishly. Choose friends for support, and benefits will often follow. Choose people for benefit, and deception shouldn’t surprise you. NeverFearTheDream simplebender.com

Joy in Alzheimer’s
W.C. Barron
Lap Around the Sun
Daily Steps Forward — W.C. Barron
Posted in Philosophy

Focused Past—Blurred Future

cartoon showing looking backwards and not forward will cause a wreck

People who stop overanalyzing the past have better odds at a successful future.

There is value in embracing the past and looking to the future simultaneously—to practice the philosopher’s “Janusian mindset”—while staying present in the moment. Yet, as we age, whether as individuals or nations, we tend to focus more on our past. We romanticize times when we felt invincible—periods of vitality, learning, and growth. We were finding our strengths, supporting and hiding our weaknesses, all the while learning to see the same in everyone around us.

Now, here we are—a little older, slower, and weaker, but much wiser. And therein lies the key to our future. The secret is not to dwell on who we were, but to leverage our accumulated knowledge and experience for the good of those around us. Greatness is not measured by what we’ve done, but by how we uplift others. As individuals, it’s in how we help our communities; as a nation, it’s in how we inspire global respect for democracy and human dignity. This is the message that philosophers, teachers, and prophets throughout history have conveyed. Greatness was never about personal glory—it was about collective well-being.

Let’s focus less on what we were and more on what we can become, using our experiences to encourage, not oppress. Let’s leverage those experiences not to oppress but to encourage and uplift. The sacrifices of the “Greatest Generation” showed us that we should stand up for those who suffer and support the vulnerable, both locally and globally. We, too, can inspire by looking back as we move forward, coaching the next generation to be better. We must be mindful of what we teach and how we act; the next generation and the world are watching — everything. Our ability to influence and guide them is directly related to our credibility.

Staring in the rearview mirror is a great way to have a wreck while driving forward. As this year ends and we begin another lap around the sun, glance back with gratitude, acknowledging the memories, but keep your eyes focused on the future—for all of us. NeverFearTheDream simplebender.com

First published in Bend Bulletin 1/7/26

Joy in Alzheimer’s
W.C. Barron
Lap Around the Sun
Daily Steps Forward — W.C. Barron

Posted in Philosophy

When Bonds Become Bondage

the soft wood bridge building bonds turn to chains of bondage quickly....simplebender.com

Bonds are built on trust and shared purpose. What begins as social alignment can harden into dependency and quiet surrender. We’re encouraged to join teams, tribes, and causes—to belong. But what happens when those bonds start to dictate not just our identity, but also what we’re permitted to think?

Healthy bonds help us carry burdens, share experiences, and grow. They give us identity, protection, and the comfort of not standing alone. Long, strong bonds take effort: listening, repair, and the freedom to disagree without being cast out.

Yet the same bond that holds us up can also hold us down. It becomes bondage when internal disagreement feels like betrayal and outside questions feel like an attack. When you sense that leaving—or even doubting—will cost you your status, your income, your family, or your place at the table, you’re no longer just bonded. You’re being managed.

This innocuous type of bondage isn’t so bold as handcuffs. It seeps in through reward and punishment. Praise for loyalty. Shame for dissent. Fear of exile. Our “independence muscle” atrophies, not only because we stop using it, but because the systems around us—media, parties, teams, neighborhoods, companies, even congregations—profit from our reflexive defense of the group. We start repeating talking points. We don’t think or challenge; we begin to become puppets. Their script becomes our voice.

And yet, people don’t choose this only out of weakness or neglect. Tight bonds promise safety in a chaotic world. They offer clear enemies, simple answers, and the warmth of “us.” Sometimes bondage feels much better than isolation.

That’s why we need quiet tests of our own chains. When was the last time you openly challenged your group’s beliefs, and how did they respond? If you walked away tomorrow, what would you truly lose—and what might you gain?

Society survives through bonds—and through resisting the slide into silent obedience. So yes, build bonds. But also actively seek out and connect with those who think differently, and to those your group teaches you to fear or mock. Cross-group ties don’t erase convictions; they loosen the hidden shackles of certainty.

Stand with others, not under a thumb or behind a shield. Bonds are necessary—bondage is optional and may not be escapable. NeverFearTheDream   simplebender.com

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Posted in Philosophy

Credibility: The Fragile Currency of Character

Credibility is a delicate characteristic — slow to earn, swift to lose, and nearly impossible to fully restore. It’s like a crystal goblet: clear, strong in purpose, yet so easily fractured by careless acts. Once shattered, even after the best repair, the cracks remain visible and weak, and the goblet, once pristine, is forever damaged. Those who’ve tried to rebuild their chalice of credibility know the haunting truth — it becomes easier to break again, and probably will. Credibility doesn’t erode overnight; it erodes through capitulation, excuses, and the convenience of shifting with the wind.

There was a time when credibility was among our highest personal currencies and a source of pride. A person’s word was their bond. Their handshake was a contract. Their consistency was a mirror of their moral compass. Their willingness to admit mistakes and change positions in light of new information was seen as extreme emotional maturity and self-confidence. Perfection doesn’t—and didn’t—earn credibility, but integrity does. A visible, demonstrated alignment between belief, speech, and action. Today, that alignment is bent under the weight of expediency and twisted for target audiences.

The credibility of leaders — political, pulpit, legal, law enforcement, academic, athletic — has become collateral in the age of populism and applause metrics. When polls become the goal, truth becomes negotiable. When power is the aim, credibility is an afterthought, and diversion and deceit are the tools of choice. The words ‘I promise’ and ‘trust me’ become code for watch your back. We see it in leaders who flip their stances to appease whichever crowd can give them more leverage. They conveniently forget that credibility is built through conviction and compromise—not appeasement. It’s not the stance itself that matters most; it’s the steadiness of principle that gives credibility its meaning.

In this swirling chaos of contradiction and convenience, we, and the world, have grown cynical. Our long-standing allies no longer trust our national commitments. Those who stand ‘against us’ leverage our lack of credibility to their advantage.

We no longer trust what’s said, only what’s repeated—and if a lie is told often enough and loud enough, some believe it to be a truth—but it’s not, it’s still a lie—with or without a sprinkle of truth to placate the gullible. And, unfortunately, when the truth is actually told, we are all skeptical, uncertain, with no clear way to confirm or deny—so, everything feels like a lie, or a hybrid truth.

We no longer follow those who lead — we watch to see if they’re trending. We analyze ten-second snippets or AI-generated memes designed to slander and divide, not unify. In doing so, we participate in the erosion we claim to despise—we, the people, become willing players in the deceit and the shattering of credibility.

We need to stop outsourcing integrity and credibility. Stop waiting for heroes to save us, saints to guide us, or perfect voices to speak for us. The world doesn’t need any more idols, demigods, or people placed upon false pedestals. It needs individuals who live as examples — quietly, calmly, patiently, consistently, courageously.

Let’s stop looking for heroes and start being credible ones — with every choice and every word you make every day. #NeverFearTheDream

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Posted in Philosophy

Sanctity for Survival: Weaponizing Religion

Religion has always walked a knife-edge between faith and power. Religion is best when it brings comfort and worst when it becomes a tool of politics. Within our lifetime, there are two salient examples of the twisting of religion and state power: Iran and Russia. Two very different nations illustrate how this symbiotic relationship unfolds and precisely why our founders wisely established a separation between the church and the state. Spoiler alert—the walls are crumbling.

Iran: Mosque as State—Under the Shah, Iran’s clerics were suppressed, their influence diminished as the monarchy rushed to modernize. In 1979, the pendulum swung violently back. Ayatollah Khomeini and the mosque became the state itself. For decades, sermons dictated law, dissent was heresy, and the Revolutionary Guard enforced both politics and piety. Religion achieved supremacy at the cost of freedom.

Today, Iran’s youth — connected, progressive, impatient — are no longer persuaded by clerical authority. Protests after the death of Mahsa Amini revealed the fracture: religion wielded as control is no longer seen as sacred. The bargain that once restored the mosque’s power has hardened into a straitjacket, hollowing faith even as its institutions endure.

Russia: Saints for Soldiers—For most of the 20th century, the Russian Orthodox Church was brutalized under communism. Priests executed, cathedrals destroyed, believers silenced. When the Soviet Union collapsed, the Church sought revival — but revival required allies. Putin offered protection, prestige, and funding. In return, Patriarch Kirill and his bishops sanctified not only his rule, but his wars. Each branch of the Russian military is assigned a patron saint, and these are displayed as soldiers march—icons and rifles in hand. And mosaics of saints standing beside tanks and missiles—faith stitched into firepower.

It is a mutual, parasite-host alliance for survival. The Church props up the empire; the empire props up the Church. Orthodoxy regains prestige after decades of persecution, while the Kremlin secures sacred legitimacy for its conquests.

United States: Are Pulpits the Next Podiums?—Judeo-Christianity has influenced our national culture from its founding. Currently, church attendance is shrinking, younger generations walk away, scandals erode credibility, and the religiously unaffiliated approaches 30% of the population (PRRI). We are evolving into a secular nation of diverse beliefs. In this decline and transition, political power has become a lifeline for some of the more radical to guard against the nightmare of irrelevance becomes a reality.

Some fringe religious leaders now align with vocal politicians who promise to “fight for them,” to restore an age and influence gone by. In exchange, some of their pulpits have become podiums. Political leaders boast, “I hate my enemies,” and vow to “beat the hell out of them,” these words juxtaposed to:” do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you.” The contrast is crisp —aggressive pulpits now espouse vengeance rather than pleading for understanding. Rhetoric that contradicts the very teachings once held sacrosanct. The threat of pulpits becoming podiums is a genuine concern.

Lessons: Learn the Lessons—The parallels are clear. In Iran, religion became the state. In Russia, the Church promotes the empire for its own security. In America, the mainstream is often overshadowed by extremists who cling to authoritarian strongmen for cultural relevance and power—trading faith’s essence for influence.

When religion becomes a weapon of politics, the backlash is not revival but rebellion. These bargains may preserve institutions for a generation, but they ultimately lead to decay.

Like a Möbius strip, the inside and outside of faith and power continuously trade places, with no true end and no certainty. The loop is endless, the inversion unending — a path where faith loses its soul and nations lose their way, twisting around and around until revolt. The American founders understood this and wisely built institutional walls between state and church to prevent their blighted bonding, but now the walls are crumbling. #NeverFearTheDream

First published in Bend Bulletin 10/29/25

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Posted in Philosophy

Parable: Grandad’s Scales: Honest Measure

boy holding a balance beam scale to weigh equity not equality

The old man sat on the porch, the autumn wind stirring the fallen leaves. His grandson, an impatient teen, leaned against the rail and sighed heavily.

“Opportunity for everyone—what a joke,” the boy muttered. “Not for us anymore. Maybe for someone else—they’ve taken everything.”

The grandfather didn’t answer. He reached for a small, rusted balance scale on the railing—an heirloom from his own father.

“You know this scale?” he asked. “Your great-grandad was a miner. He used it to weigh ore, but he said it measured something greater than metal—justice. Not everything weighs the same, but a good scale makes sure the measure is fair.”

He dropped a pebble on one pan. “This is what you think you’ve lost.” Then another. “And this, what someone else gained.”

The boy watched, his arms crossed, curiosity overtaking his frustration.

The old man added a third pebble, heavier than the rest. “This one’s the story you were told—that if their side rises, yours must fall. That story was sold by the same people who bent the beam and called it balance.”

The boy frowned. “What do you mean?”

“When I was your age,” said the grandfather, “we believed hard work guaranteed the climb. For a while, it did. Then markets changed and factories closed, machines got smarter, and those who owned the levers of money built taller ladders while the rest of us argued over who deserved the bottom rung. Now they feed you anger because angry men don’t notice the hands at the top pressing on the scale. They treat us like puppets—because too many dance when they pull the strings.”

He flipped the scale over; the pebbles scattered. The arms hung limp, like broken marionettes. “They’ve convinced you the problem is the person climbing beside you. But look closer—the scale isn’t even anchored to the ground anymore. The fight isn’t for equal weight; it’s for honest measure. Equity means measuring every stone’s, every person’s, its true worth.”

The boy’s jaw tightened. “So what do I do with that?”

The grandfather smiled. “Simple. Stop counting other people’s pebbles and start measuring their worth. Fix the scale. Learn, build, vote, speak, stand—not for the side you were born on, but for the fairness your great-grandad believed in. Opportunity isn’t gone, son. It’s just been disguised by those who need you too angry to see the game.”

The boy turned the scale in his hands. It felt lighter than he’d imagined—and suddenly, so did he. He set it on the railing, and as the arms found their balance, the old man said softly, “Remember, life’s not meant to be equal—it’s meant to be just.”#NeverFearTheDream

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Author’s Reflection — Equality vs. Equity

Equality assumes sameness, but nature has never been equal. No two stones weigh alike, no two lives start level. Equity is the art of fair measure — adjusting the balance so that justice, not uniformity, prevails. It asks that we see worth in context, not in comparison. The world doesn’t need everyone to carry the same load; it requires each of us to bear our share with integrity and pride. The lesson of the scale is simple: fairness isn’t about equal weight, but about honest measure — the foundation of any just and enduring society.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Factoids for reference:

  • 54% of Black men born in the bottom income quintile remain there as adults, compared to 22% of White men.1
  • Hispanic children are more likely than Black children but less likely than White children to move up from the bottom 20% into the middle or top 40%.2
  • Black boys earn less than White boys in 99% of U.S. neighborhoods.1
  • Among children from low-income households, only 17% of White children remain in the bottom decile as adults versus 42% of Black children.3
  • Between cohorts born in 1978 and 1992, the racial mobility gap shrank by about 27%, yet Black men and Native Americans remain twice as likely as White men to experience downward mobility.4

1:(Brookings, 2018; Chetty et al., Opportunity Insights, 2018)

2:(Chicago Fed, 2023; Opportunity Insights, 2018)

3:(Equitable Growth, 2022; Pew Research Center, 2022)

4: (Equitable Growth, 2023; U.S. Census Bureau, 2024)

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Posted in Philosophy

Rediscover Your First Nature: Beneath the Vener of Your Second

Every day, we hear people declare, ‘This is just second nature.’ For something to become second nature, there had to be practice and/or social influence to change what their first nature was. Does anyone remember what their first nature was, and can we peel back the veneer of our second to return to the first, if we wanted to?

We rarely talk about our First Nature. The nature we were blessed with in the beginning, before we were conditioned and formed life-altering habits. They are the innate, biological, pre-social capacities of curiosity, fear, empathy, attachment, and so on. First nature doesn’t hate; it differentiates. It notices patterns of familiarity, comfort, threat, and protection. It produces the capacity for bias, but it doesn’t develop an ideology of it.

Second Nature is learned, habituated, and socially enforced structures of behaviors and beliefs. When a reaction or attitude becomes second nature, it means it has been so deeply culturally engineered that it feels automatic—a reflex done without thinking. Second nature is encoding through stories, rituals, hierarchies, and reward systems. Hate and bigotry are not natural; they are second nature; they are a cultural metastasis of a cycle.

Run the loop long enough and hate feels ‘natural’—it is second nature and doesn’t feel like a negative response or reaction, it just merely is—because you’ve been socially corrupted and molded.

A thoughtful person in reflection must ask: Can it be reversed? The answer is a resounding yes. It can if we recognize the cycle. Instead of fear-triggering avoidance, what if it triggered natural curiosity? This shift in perspective opens up a world of possibilities for growth and change.

This isn’t sentimental. It’s disciplined work: notice the trigger, interrupt the habit, and retrain the response by consciously choosing a different reaction. The task isn’t to erase second nature but to realign it—so what feels automatic again serves what is authentic.

We are defined by what we love and what we detest, what we accept, what we tolerate, and what we reject. Each of us can rediscover our first nature characteristics. Because first nature doesn’t have a set of instructions, rediscovery isn’t about reprogramming yourself but about acknowledging that you are a product of your socio-economic environment. Take time to reflect and, honestly, aggressively self-assess. Self-deception is self-deprivation—denying yourself the truth denies you growth. But when you embrace self-reflection, you take control of your growth journey. Ask yourself if the second nature virtue you exhibit is really a tortured, misconfigured, misaligned first nature—like fear yielding to hate. Give yourself the latitude and patience to look deep, rediscover alternatives, and be open to the power of curiosity and understanding. #NeverFearTheDream

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Posted in Philosophy

The Pinhole Prison

child's pinhole glasses with sideshields

As a child, I wore pinhole glasses with side shields. I had Coats’ Disease and was one of the youngest patients to undergo pre-laser photo-coagulation, where swollen blood vessels on my retina were burned into place. As their youngest and most active patient, the specialists feared that even slight eye movement might breach the scars and leave me blind. Their solution was to narrow and control my vision to protect it. To see more, I had to move my head, mentally stitching fragments into a larger, coherent picture.

Today, too many choose to live this way—peering at the world not only through pinhole glasses but through pinhole windows in houses of self-imposed isolation.

We are fortunate to have the ability to see both panorama and detail. Yet many deliberately confine themselves to the narrowest slits of vision. They call it principle, but it is often blindness. When you see only fragments, you are not informed—you are managed. Critical thinking can change this. It helps us see beyond fragments, connect the dots, and make informed decisions.

Life is messy, confusing, thrilling and interconnected. To reduce it to one grievance, one tribe, or one slogan is not clarity; it is surrender. Families and communities depend on us to see beyond personal outrage. Narrow vision produces narrow outcomes—divisive politics, social inequality, and environmental degradation. Such outcomes almost always serve those in power, not those staring through the pinhole.

Isolation breeds fragility. Fragile citizens are the easiest to rule. People who see only what they want soon treat alternative views as offensive rather than essential. That is a weakness, not a strength. And it plays into the hands of those who designed the house, who placed the windows exactly where they want you to look. They don’t want you to see the horizon. Their concern is not you—it never was.

As a child, I had no choice; my parents and doctors demanded the glasses. As an adult, I do. And so do you. To widen your view does not mean agreeing with every perspective, but it does mean choosing to understand rather than accept without question.

My treatments gave me two things: the gift of sight in one eye, and an appreciation for looking beyond monocular perspectives. Life is not a snippet or a shard. It is a mosaic. Each tile taken in isolation is meaningless, maybe even deceptive. But the whole is magical. The choice is stark: stitch together the fragments, or let others decide what you see. Choose depth and insight. Never surrender your vision. Step out of the pinhole window house, discard the pinhole glasses, and turn your head on a swivel to absorb the beauty of a limitless world. #NeverFearTheDream

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Posted in Philosophy

When Ten Is Just Too Many…

Encourage ethical living through four simple principles

The bridge of life over turbulent river supported by four critical spans....

Religions and philosophies have long sought to distill the principles of life into something memorable and enduring. The story goes that Moses ascended the mountain to retrieve the Ten Commandments for his people. Ten was supposed to be simple. Yet if today’s headlines are any measure, ten is too many for too many. So let’s cut to the core—four principles that are not bound by any specific belief system, but are universal and can be practiced by anyone:

Act with reverence to all.
Cultivate generosity.
Be considerate in relationships.
Tell the truth with care.

Act with reverence to all.
The key phrase is to all. Reverence means respect, grace, and honor—offered not just to friends or allies but to those who oppose, insult, or dismiss you. You don’t have to like or agree with someone to treat them with dignity. Doing so shows moral maturity, honors both of you, and sets an example—even if it isn’t returned.

Cultivate generosity.
Generosity isn’t about giving away everything. It is a practice of timely kindness—offering what is needed, when it is needed, to whomever needs it. Like any skill, generosity grows through practice until it becomes second nature.

Be considerate in relationships.
Every intimate relationship carries hope and vulnerability. To honor that is to see beyond the carnal into the emotional and intellectual—embracing another’s fears and dreams without violating them. That takes openness and courage. And once you learn it in intimacy, extend it outward—adjusting the degree, but carrying consideration into every human interaction.

Tell the truth with care.
Truth matters—but it can wound. Some truths people bury, rewrite, or try to cancel because they hurt. Still, the truth must surface. The key is how we share it: directly, yet not cruelly, honestly, yet not demeaning. Speak truth the way you would want to hear it yourself. And remember, truth is rarely black and white; perspective adds the shades of gray that make it whole.

Headlines are filled with destruction, hatred, and division. We can’t stop it all. But each of us can live by these four guardrails. They are not lofty commandments carved in stone, just four simple principles to practice every day. Because ten may be too many, but we can manage four:

Reverence. Generosity. Consideration. Truth.

For Every Problem...A Solution...
Lap Around the Sun: Daily Steps Forward
Joy in Alzheimer’s: My Mom’s Brave Walk into Dementia’s Abyss