My mother grew up in rural Southern Italy. She was alive when her family farm was used to feed WWII soldiers. My mother tells me how grateful she was that her father and brothers did not fight in the war. They just had to feed fighting men who were fighting Mussolini’s senseless mission. My mother’s dementia allows her to only remember those days. She can tell you the crops her family farm grew and harvested 70 years ago. When it comes to what my mom ate for dinner 20 minutes ago silence.