They have some intrinsic value, but you can't buy or sell them. Unless, of course, you've gained some amount of fame, then your memoirs have some value to the public. For most of us, though, the value lies within ourselves.

We hold our memories dear, for they keep us company when we get old. They give us wisdom. They keep us company during dark times; and when we die, they die with us, their purpose served.

Ken Law is 82 years old and the memories that make up his long life have been insidiously slipping away over the past couple of years.

Alzheimer's Disease has taken away memories of more than 30 years of teaching. It's taken away the faces of his children. It's even taken away the memory of 40 years of marriage.

One thing, though, that it hasn't taken from him is music. He is still able to pick up his guitar and play a tune by memory.

Up until last week, Ken would play guitar at Shorty's BBQ in Moriarty each Friday evening. Although he would sometimes play the same song back to back, he never missed a note in either playing. As he played, his toe tapped and his frail body moved to the rhythm of the beat.

Now Ken has a new home in Albuquerque will have to find another place to play. His wife Mary says she just can't take care for him by herself anymore and needs help.

You really understand wedding vows, especially the "sickness and health" part when a spouse has Alzheimer's, Mary says. It really is until death parts them, she says, a tear rolling down her cheek.

There really isn't anything in the standard wedding vows about losing one's memories, though. Nothing about living with a man who will soon forget who you are. There's nothing about how a "wife" or "husband" becomes "caregiver." To Mary, that vow was implied; she's not going anywhere.

Ken doesn't seem to really understand everything that's going on, and sometimes forgets who Mary is, but he knows he's moving to a new home, and he knows he will be safe.

But the pain of Alzheimer's isn't necessarily with those afflicted — they don't know what is gone. It's the most painful to those around them.

Ken and Mary moved to the Estancia Valley from Arizona about eight years ago, finding a peaceful, warm place to retire after careers as school teachers. Since he was a child, Ken has been playing an instrument of some kind. And for most of his life, he played professionally on weekends and during the summer when school was out. Getting paid for playing is good, but only a lucky few can make enough to raise a family.

When he and Mary moved to the Estancia Valley eight years ago, Ken volunteered his guitar playing services for free. He said in a news article at the time that he didn't need the money and he did it for the simple pleasure of pleasing an audience.

"I believe that I'm playing a duet with their memories," he said at the time. "Nothing can beat that feeling."

Now the duets he plays are with his own memories and soon those will fade altogether.

And that is something of value that is lost.

Contact McClannahan at 823-7102 or online at This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it .