My sister A discovered that my aged mother was still wearing the sunglasses that my father wore on the tiny yet strategic island of Beru in the Pacific, in 1965. But the sunglasses were broken. One arm was missing, so that they sat skew on my mother's face. A bought my mother a new pair of sunglasses, which she described as "smart". My mother didn't want them. Therefore A took the old pair to an optician for repair. When the optician heard the story, he said he would do it for nothing. OBSERVATION: It seems sometimes that time stopped for all of us, when my parents accepted that posting to remote islands.