Long, long ago, at my summer camp, the Girl Scout song, “Make New Friends, But Keep the Old” was sung regularly at campfires. 

I thought of that old favorite the other night when out to dinner with a couple Peter and I met almost fifty years ago.  Our kids were in third and fifth grade with their kids, and we met for the first time at a book group for third-grade parents.

Over the years, we went to early movies and out to dinner with them countless times.  And among other memorable activities, we bicycled together in New Zealand.

I see them infrequently now, although we are always in touch by phone. 

Except for the empty fourth chair at the table, our dinner was as much fun as always.

Medicine is not what it used to be. 

These days, fewer people are choosing medical school and doctors seem to be “burning out” sooner.  In the good old days, one’s doctor might even have picked up the phone when patients called.  Back then, my general practitioner always personally knew the right specialist.  He sent me to my terrific obstetrician with the perfect name for his specialty:  Dr. Sexton

My current healthcare team tells me that their patients are coming from much farther away because they can’t get care near their homes.

It’s sad.

When I visited my son Seth and his fiancée in Brazil recently, they asked me to bring their wedding invitations for Americans to the U.S. to mail.  So, the most precious cargo in my backpack was about 40 oversized envelopes containing the prettiest wedding invites I’ve ever seen.

The Post Office, however, didn’t like them so much. There was a lot of discussion about how to mail them because I wanted to use real stamps, and there was no combination of stamps that equaled the correct cost. 

So, I overpaid for a lovely yellow train stamp and a flower stamp.  I sat on a post office bench and with the help of a friend who happened to be in line in front of me attached two stamps to each envelope.  It was a bit of a pain…

But we got the job done.

What I Had Forgotten about Brazil

1. Doorknobs turn the opposite way.
2. Refrigerator doors open from the left side, unless otherwise specified.
3. Used toilet paper goes into a strategically placed disposal can with a lid.
4. English is not as widely spoken as one would hope.
5. It is really hot in February.
6. Brazilian cheese-bread is delicious—and gluten free.

What I won’t forget is how welcoming and generous my son and his now-fiancée were to this 80-something year old.

I usually visit my son Seth in Brazil in October, the equivalent of New England’s April—pleasantly balmy temperatures and blue skies.  This year, however, I decided to try the equivalent of Boston’s August by visiting in mid-February.

At 5:45 a.m. on a February morning in freezing rain with snow on the horizon, I left for Boston’s Logan Airport. I arrived in São Paulo to 35 degrees Celsius or 95 degrees Fahrenheit

The next day, the sidewalks and shops of São Paulo were filled with women of all ages wearing shorts and skimpy tops.  Of course, I, in my New England style and being 80-something, do not have those items in my wardrobe. So not only was I “notice-able”, I was darn hot.

My beautiful future daughter-in-law dressed perfectly for the weather.

I have a favorite florist—he knows my name and that I love daisies.  His mother ran the store for years, so he’s been around flowers for a very long time.

I’ve also been the recipient of his beautiful arrangements. Because they arrive in unworthy glass vases, I immediately scoop them into a vase of my own. 

Now that I live about 100 yards away from his shop, I walk by it almost daily. I decided that since we are neighbors, I could return the glass vases for him to re-use--I certainly don’t need them.

So, I marched in carrying an empty vase and said, “Can you guys use this?”  I received the biggest smile, and a great big “Yes!”

A sweet start to my day.

A pedicure is an indulgence that I don’t give myself often enough. So, it was a big deal for me to go to a real spa for one recently.  It was a half-rain, half-flurries kind of a day, and that somehow made my visit a perfect escape.

I had a private room, was offered a selection of (non-alcoholic) drinks, and my feet turned (not beautiful but) less unappealing after forty minutes of attention.  I felt like queen for a day. 

Anybody who looked at my feet as I walked home would see my walking shoes and a pair of socks decorated with pelicans. 

Little did they know that I was a woman with feet that looked like a million dollars.

My primary care physician is an excellent doctor, but he is overworked and potentially overwhelmed with his duties as head of his department. 

Luckily for me and his other patients, he has a Godsend of a nurse practitioner.  As far as I can tell, all nurse practitioners are a gift in these difficult times. But mine is special.  And I wanted her to know that. 

So, I decided to bring flowers to my appointment with her for my annual “wellness” exam.  As always, she left nothing to chance that morning.  For example, when I asked her about a new medication I had heard about, she immediately checked it out (only to find that the cost is prohibitive).

She told me that these days, she worries more about her patients’ anxiety than their health.   Her hopeful outlook is “what drains your battery also recharges it”.

She loved the bouquet I brought her.

Every year Stanford University’s Longevity Project holds a conference of leaders in the field of aging that is available to all on Zoom.  I admit  that I didn’t watch every day, but below are my important takeaways.

1. Ageism is not just directed to older people, but can occur at all ages.
2. Some progress is being made in bringing diverse ages together for the benefit of all, but we have a long way to go.
3. Solutions? Focus on things that bring the generations together.  Perhaps easier said than done, but efforts are being made.

This conference offers hope for a future with less ageism.  We’re not going to solve this quickly, but it’s good to know that

People are working on it.

I have lived in snow country for decades.  Outdoor activities always made it tolerable.  I remember the enormous Boston blizzard of 1978, closing schools and businesses.  I recall our neighbor Reggie sharing a huge pot of spaghetti sauce that fed at least three families because it was melting in her no-longer-freezing freezer.

I can still picture then Massachusetts governor Michael Dukakis on TV in his V-neck cardigan, calming his constituents, looking like he was one of us.

These days, I don’t like snow so much.  I walk like the old lady I am for fear of slipping on hidden ice.  And somehow the wind feels even fiercer this year. 

It seems like a long time ‘til spring.