Upon moving back to Cambridge from Washington, DC in 2018, Peter and I rented a condo while we thought about where we wanted to put down new roots.  As his health deteriorated from Parkinson’s Disease, he became concerned about my future.  We had come to love our rental apartment so when a condo on our floor came on the market, he wanted us to buy it. 

It was a risk.  The owner only used it part of each year, and she hadn’t given it the loving care it deserved.  But we liked it and we decided to take a chance.

That was two and a half years ago.  It served our purpose, the security of a place to live.

But it needed some “work” that, sadly, Peter would never get to see. 

I started to make it mine with a total re-painting.  Then came insulated shades to keep out the cold from the floor-to-ceiling living room windows.  Next came replacing the tired parquet living room floor, followed by new entryway and stair carpeting.

And last month, I had the kitchen cabinet doors, countertop and backsplash updated. 

Peter did not live to see the transformation, but I know he would love it. 

And I have an apartment that now is me.

I spread my grocery shopping out in the following way:  Produce and meat: mostly Whole Foods.  Canned goods and household staples:  big grocery chain, usually Star Market.   Quirky stuff, and wonderfully affordable cut flowers Trader Joe’s. 

This can vary, depending on where I am when the grocery list demands my attention.

As a confirmed banana-a-day consumer, Trader Joe’s 19-cent-a-piece bananas (no matter what they weigh) have been a staple purchase by this health-conscious eater for as long as I can remember.  As prices of everything rose, I thought this 19-cent “loss-leader” would forever be a lure to TJ’s shoppers.

Alas, the other day the 19-cent banana had disappeared, to be replaced by the  24-cent banana.

I mentioned this change to the check-out cashier.  He was sympathetic.  He said that they had kept the 19-cent price for 20 years or so.

Since the ability to adapt to change is important to me,

I’ll manage.

This is my 1700^th blog post.  When I embarked on this journey at age 69, it never occurred to me that I would still be publishing my random thoughts on just about anything at 86.  Even more remarkable is that so many loyal readers still are with me, and others still sign on.

Life is so different now.  Back then, I was still deeply into my work.  Peter and I were enjoying an empty nest, grateful that our children were launched.  Now, a widow for more than two years, I’ve had to make the best of a life without the man of my dreams.  I’ve learned that one never gets over a loss, but it is possible to carry on and be grateful.

And carry on is what I do.  Thanks for joining me.

Engraved on the inside of my wedding ring are the notes of the opening theme of Haydn’s 88^th symphony.  It’s a long story, but illustrative of what our son Seth called “his classical-music-loving parents”.

So it's no surprise that Peter and I had a decades-long subscription to the concert series of the Handel and Haydn Society. We attended with dear friends, and it was a lovely tradition.

After Peter died, I kept our subscription with our friends, but it wasn’t the same without him.  Then this season I missed two concerts due to travel.  And today I decided not to subscribe to the 2024-2025 season.  I still hope to go to a concert or two, but it’s not going to be the same.

I remind myself to be grateful for a wonderful tradition.

Still, I am sad.

I’m accustomed to being the youngest in a group of my peers.  I started kindergarten a year early (at age four).  I was the last of my high school friends to get a driver’s license and the last of my college classmate friends to celebrate turning 21 by chugging a pitcher of beer at The Pretzel Bell in Ann Arbor, Michigan.

But no more.  In my group of 18 traveling in Cambodia and Vietnam just now, I was the oldest by two years and most of my fellow travelers were ten years younger.  They were very complimentary, several remarking that they hope that they will be as vigorous as I am when they reach my advanced age.

There is no denying that there is a difference in me from just a few years ago. For starters, the 95+degree temperature and accompanying high humidity was a problem for me more than the others, and seeing Cambodians and Vietnamese natives sometimes in jackets and sweatshirts didn’t help.  Yes, everyone breathed a little more easily when we were back in our air-conditioned bus, but I was probably the most relieved.

This 80-something blogger will check out the humidity before choosing her next destination.

Lesson learned.

Long Life Learning, a fascinating (at least to me) book by Michelle Weise is about an “as you need it” approach to education.  The author quotes Alfred North Whitehead about what he calls “inert knowledge,” the kind of knowledge that disappears from our brains because it is not used in the real world. 

Boy, can I relate to that…

Weise relates a study done in a prestigious boarding school that asked returning students from two different years to retake the same science final they had taken just three months earlier. The average grade in the class dropped from a B+ to an F.  Not a single student had retained the concepts they had been tested on just three months earlier.

Something to think about…

The clock on my bedside table tells me that I am writing this at 1:45 a.m.  on March 9^th.  But my body thinks it is 3:45 p.m. because I have just returned from a far-away vacation.

So, while my laundry basket is overflowing and my dresser is strewn with stuff dumped from a suitcase, I want to capture my neither-here-nor-there feeling.

In early December, I decided I shouldn’t wait any longer to travel to Cambodia and Vietnam.  My friend Christa, always up for adventure, agreed to join me in taking the last two spots on a Road Scholar trip to visit both countries.   And that’s where I’ve been.

There is much to reflect upon after two nights in Sien Reap, Cambodia, followed by seven nights on the Mekong River with sixteen other curious travelers—including a visit to Angkor Wat and the killing fields of Cambodia, followed by the swarms of motorcycles on the streets of Ho Chi Minh City in Vietnam, along with its war-related museums and monuments and its oppressive heat and humidity—all part of being thrust into a totally different world.

In addition to that overflowing laundry basket and an empty refrigerator, I have a quite confused body.

And tremendous gratitude for an unforgettable journey.

Now back to reality and, hopefully, some sleep.

Times they are a-changing.

The technical skills so much in demand in recent years are skills that Artificial Intelligence possesses--and can potentially use faster and perhaps better than humans.   Aneesh Raman and Maria Flynn, in their New York Times guest essay When Your Technical Skills Are Eclipsed, Your Humanity Will Matter More Than Ever, give the impression that the huge increase in computer science and information technology college majors (up 41% in the last five years)  may be coming to an end.

As a liberal arts graduate, a humanities comeback suits me just fine.  And as Minouche Shafik, who is now the president of Columbia University, said:

“In the past, jobs were about muscles. Now they’re about brains, but in the future, they’ll be about the heart.”

I’m not sure what prompted me to attend a performance of the Harvard Glee Club on a recent Friday night.  Even less sure about why a friend agreed to go with me.

We joined an enthusiastic audience of fellow students and parents and siblings of the performers. 

The chorus members (mostly male) were decked out in navy blazers, khaki trousers and crimson ties, clearly not their daily attire.  They had just returned from a three-week tour of Europe, and they seem to have had a marvelous time.

I couldn’t tell you what they sang, but it was all good.  I was struck by the following: one, all the fun they were having, two, how the pieces were each conducted by one of the chorus members, and three what full heads of hair young men have!

Note to self:  Watch calendar for next performance.