Most evenings we eat dinner “out” in the dining room. We’ve shared tables with many of the hundred residents here, although occasionally we eat at a table for two or bring our meal upstairs to our apartment. Like everything else in this mega-changed life, it takes some getting used to.
The other night the head of the Hospitality Committee invited us to join her at a table for six. Everyone there except for Peter and me was at least ninety, and one woman was about to celebrate her hundredth birthday.
Only three of the six own a computer (and two of those were Peter and me). I think we were the only ones who had cell phones, which we found surprising, and our grandchildren would not have found believable.
Yet they all had interesting backgrounds. Two worked for the U.S government in Taiwan, Korea and other foreign countries. The almost- centenarian, who grew up in Wisconsin was a pianist whose son is a cellist living in Anchorage, Alaska. He will play for us when he visits her in January.
Everyone has a story.