Richard Ault has always loved cooking for his wife, Emily Myers.
He learned to make one of his favorite dishes, crawfish and shrimp etouffe, in the ‘80s when he taught at Louisiana State University.
He hasn’t been able to cook as much as he’d like, Emily explained, because he’s forgotten to turn the stove off a few times.
“I haven’t burned the house down yet,” Richard joked.
Richard was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease about five years ago.
He was an economics professor at Auburn until after his diagnosis, and his wife still teaches social work at the University. They’ve been married for more than 30 years, and, for the most part, they’ve been extremely happy together. But their lives changed when Richard started having symptoms.
It started simply enough: misplaced keys, a forgotten name or two. A lot of wives would’ve chalked it up to the natural aging process. Richard wasn’t getting any younger, after all, and forgetfulness tends to come with old age.
But Emily knew something was wrong. She’s taught an aging class for more than 30 years.
“I always felt there was wisdom and something different and valuable about older people,” Emily said.
Richard’s mother had Alzheimer’s, Emily said, so she immediately suspected the worst. After some tests, her fears were confirmed.
Richard was a professor at LSU and Emily was working toward a master’s degree in social work when they met in Louisiana in the ‘70s. A member of the economics faculty was dating one of Emily’s friends, and the two were introduced.
“It was kind of love at first sight,” Emily said. “Right, Richard?”
“Well, I’d say it was more lust at first sight,” he said with a smile.
They didn’t become an item until later because Emily was involved with someone else at the time.
One day, Emily and Richard met again at a department store. They were both trying to avoid going home, and the store was open late.
“He was shopping for underwear because he ran out of clothes,” Emily said.
They were married two years later. The newlyweds moved to Auburn and started teaching at the University in 1983.
They’ve lived in Kuderna Acres, a quaint little neighborhood off Wire Road, the whole time. The roads wind into other roads, and children are still allowed to play in the streets. It’s reminiscent of a bygone, simpler time.
Emily and Richard said they have loved their lives there.
“We were the first newcomers,” Richard said about the neighborhood. “Now we’re second in seniority.”
It’s where they raised their 19-year-old daughter, Maddie, and where they cooked countless meals together. It’s where they lived, loved and made memories together. 
It’s also where, for Richard, those memories are beginning to fade.
He’s still quite aware of his life and his surroundings. He can tell the story of his life with almost perfect accuracy, and he makes insightful observations about politics and society.
But it’s the small things he has trouble remembering. Emily worries it will soon become the big things.
He took her to a doctor’s appointment in Birmingham a few weeks ago, and they didn’t have problems getting there. Emily fell asleep on the way back to Auburn. When she woke up, Richard was heading back in the direction of Birmingham.
She dreads the day he’ll have to give up his keys.
“Stopping driving means a loss of independence,” Emily explained.
Richard said the change will be difficult, and he worries about the time he’ll have to spare when he can’t go anywhere he wants, whenever he wants. But he knows it’s coming, and he’s taking it in stride.
“I’ll just have to fish more,” he said. 
Even though she’s had a great deal of experience with Alzheimer’s patients, Emily has had some trouble adjusting to his diagnosis. She said Richard has become fixated with tidiness recently. Compulsivity can sometimes be a symptom of his disease.
The other day, Emily said, he reorganized her shoes. She admits she was a little annoyed. She didn’t have a problem with the way they were arranged in the first place.
After she voiced her irritation, she could tell she had hurt Richard. She knows becoming her burden is one of his biggest fears.
“I had to tell myself, ‘Emily, you can’t do that anymore,’” she said.
She is also concerned for Maddie. She’s at school at the University of Alabama, and Emily said she doesn’t seem to want to talk about her father’s diagnosis. But she knows it’s been hard for her.
These emotions aren’t uncommon among Alzheimer’s patients and their family members, said Jason Young, director of programs and advocacy for the Alabama/Florida Panhandle.
People who’ve been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s usually feel a wide variety of emotions, including anger, relief, denial, depression, resentment, fear, isolation and a sense of loss, Young said.
More than anything, though, Richard seems worried. Worried he’ll become his wife’s responsibility, worried their relationship will change.
Richard remains pretty quiet while Emily talks, teasing her here and there. She said she’s always loved his sharp sense of humor.
But when she steps away, he becomes more serious. He said his life with her has been perfect.
“I care so much for her, it hurts me to think something that involves me will become a burden for her,” he admitted.
Richard, as charming and witty as he is, is an academic at heart. His identity is tied up with his intellect. To lose one is to lose the other.
He didn’t want to retire, but he knew it was time when he received his annual student evaluations.
Most of them were positive. Richard said he has always received some of the highest reviews in the economics department. But among the encouraging comments were some Richard knew were significant.
“Dr. Ault has a tendency to repeat some lectures.”
“He’ll tell the same stories twice.”
He stopped teaching the following semester.
He still reads often. Not novels, because he doesn’t always remember where he left off, but he likes nonfiction.
He also plays word and number games. He’s especially enthusiastic about Sudoku.
As his memory fades, so will his ability to do the things he enjoys.
His disease will eventually progress, and he’ll be able to perform fewer and fewer simple tasks. It will become more difficult for him to communicate. One day, he’ll lose his ability to speak at all.
A person with Alzheimer’s lives, on average, four to eight years after being diagnosed, Young said. But he or she can sometimes live up to 20 years, depending on other factors.
“In the final stage of this disease, individuals lose the ability to respond to their environment, to carry on a conversation and, eventually, to control movement,” Young said. “They may still say words or phrases, but communicating pain becomes difficult.”
But that’s all in the future.
For now, Richard and Emily are taking this one day at a time. He’ll do as much as he can, while he can. Nobody knows exactly what to expect with Alzheimer’s or how many more lucid moments they’ll have together. Every patient is different.
One thing, though, Richard knows for certain.“Marrying her is the best thing I ever did,” Richard said. “I try to say it every day. And I mean it.”
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