It’s August already.

The daylight hours are getting shorter. School startups are just around the corner.

Those are the same thoughts I had growing up, wanting summer to last forever.

But I guess growing up teaches us nothing lasts forever — including us.

Right now, I am struggling with that.

It began in the summer of 1961. I was 8 years old and we had just moved to a new town in Nebraska. We rented a house on West 12th Street, and it didn’t take long to find a new friend, the same age as me, who lived on West 11th Street.

His name was Doug. We played Little League baseball together, kicked footballs on the high school practice field, and he even had a pool table in the basement of his home.

And so it went, all through elementary school and then on to middle school.

One day, Doug told us we could go out for the golf team. Doug could play. I had never touched a golf club, but my grandfather had an old set in his garage, so count me in.

We would play until it got dark, then turn the lights on over the practice green and practice putting until our curfew was up.

Doug was the best player on the team. Me, not so much.

But our friendship was forever.

After high school, we went our separate ways. Twenty years slipped by until I decided to move my family back to my hometown. I saw my friend Doug in a local restaurant, and it was as if we were never apart. We began playing golf together again — a lot of golf, getting in every tournament we could. When I accepted a new job a hundred miles away, we continued to take golf trips to St. George, Utah every winter.

We got older. I retired and moved to Hubbard Lake.

Then, about a year ago, Doug’s little sister, Rochelle, got in touch with me to let me know they had moved Doug into a memory care facility.

It hit me like a hammer.

Not Doug! Not again!

As grand as life can be, it can just as easily take you down to your knees.

My uncle died of Alzheimer’s at age 79, followed by my sister, who, at the age of 63, died with Alzheimer’s. Then it was my father, age 73, who passed away with Alzheimer’s.

I am sure you, too, have friends and family members who struggled with that cruel disease.

It slowly erases the memories accumulated through one’s life, leaving us to wonder what we can possibly do to help our loved ones.

Then I see in this week’s Alpena News a front-page story about new tests to help diagnose Alzheimer’s. More work must be done, but, if it can be detected earlier, we are convinced we can treat it more effectively.

Right now, there are about 6 million people in the U.S. with the disease, so I pray we can find some answers soon. That is a challenge we must overcome.

I FaceTimed Doug about nine months ago with help from his sister, Rochelle. Doug told me a couple stories about our golf trips together.

Several months later, we talked again. That time, not so much, as he had forgotten my name and, the last time we spoke, in May, he said very little at all.

Doug now has to move to another facility that offers the care he needs.

I can tell them what he needs. He needs love. He needs compassion. He needs comfort. He needs to be spoken to with dignity and respect. For inside that man — whose thoughts are still there, even though his ability to communicate is more difficult — he needs us to understand his wants and needs. He needs our smiles, our handshakes, and our hugs.

Doug’s lifelong friendship has now given me the memories I will share for the both of us, just as I am doing today.

As soon as he finds his new residence, I will be calling him again to tell him how much I love him.

If you have any advice on what I can do for my friend, let me know at gregawtry@awtry.com.

Personal note: On Wednesday of this week, I received an update on Doug from his sister. She writes, “Unfortunately, Doug’s health has drastically declined in the 4 weeks that he has been there. He is no longer walking, may take a bite or two of food during an entire day, may take a single sip of water and is refusing to take meds in any kind of oral form. They say that he is in the final stages of dementia and his organs are going to start shutting down. Doug was moved to the ACU (Acute Care Unit) at the Columbus, Nebraska Hospital.”

Growing up teaches us nothing lasts forever, including us … dammit.