Tony Bennett left his heart in San Francisco. I recently met a woman whose husband left his appendix in Pakistan.

In our lifetime, all of us have left something behind. That’s inevitable as we move forward. When I moved into a brand new senior residence (built across the street from my home) I knew I’d have to divest myself of stuff—lots and lots of stuff! My son, Josh came and picked out items that he and my dear daughter-in-law, Barbara wanted for their home, and we shipped 25 boxes to Virginia. After he left, I became a once-a-week donor for Big Brothers and Big Sisters. When I called them, the lady on the phone said, “I know you. You’re a regular!”

My house sold in less than 24 hours, and since the new owners loved my 25-year-old furniture, I gave most of it to them. My former neighbors have told me that nothing has changed in the house except for the new owners—but, I have!

Besides having purchased some new furniture, I have also cultivated new friendships. Since most of us moved in before the pandemic, we had three months to get acquainted. We were all newbies in the same boat.  No one wanted to hear someone complain about, “selling my beautiful house.” We all had sold beautiful houses. Of course, some were probably more beautiful than others, but it was an: “Out with the old. In with the new” atmosphere.

Some people had trouble parting with their antique furniture that was too big for their apartments, or they just couldn’t rid themselves of dust catching itty bitty shelf collections, but as a friend reminded me, “Not my circus. Not my monkeys.”

As one gets older, too many friends of long standing are no longer standing.  As painful as that can be, it is important to make room for new people in your heart, because time gets shorter and their stories are worth hearing—as long as memory is intact.  But, first you have to get used to listening to a litany of body part complaints, before hearing about the abundance of adventures experienced by some of these truly remarkable people—what they have lived and what they have survived—and, most of them have not lost their sense of humor about the whole kit and caboodle called life. The reason I am never bored is that I listen!

Here’s a touch of what I have learned so far: One man was an expert in computers before most of us had ever even heard of computers. Another neighbor had been a mid-wife. He pulled out information, and she pulled out babies.

Then there’s the man who shared some of his adventures as a glider pilot. I learned a lot about downdrafts and not getting in the way of eagles. Oh, yes, I can’t forget to tell you that one of my neighbors was a race car driver. When she pulls into a parking place, I always look for a pit crew.

And, then, there’s the captivating woman who plays a less than brilliant, “Happy Birthday” on her ukulele, but can give a concert performance by Chopin on her Baby Grand Piano. She also has fascinating stories about her eight years as an assistant to a famous television celebrity. The only problem is that she talks faster than I can stir batter in a mix master. It’s a New York thing.

My new neighbors and friends include artists, business owners, authors, editors, real estate brokers and dabblers, photographers, physicians, nurses, journalists, social workers, a political lobbyist, professors, attorneys, industrialists,  a professional fund raiser, engineers, teachers, school principals, and I could go on and on. So far, I have not met an acrobat, but sometimes someone tries a balancing act on the sidewalk.

My new residence offers many opportunities to learn new skills and try something you have never done before.  As an extremely amateur artist, I was recently asked by the art teacher to exhibit one of my abstract paintings on the art wall in the lobby. It is hanging next to a beautiful photograph taken by a professional photographer,  who has had much of his work published. When I said to my son (on Face Time) “That is really intimidating, he replied, “Mom, just switch name plates.”

Everyday is an adventure—some more than others.  Tomorrow we will have a fire drill, and when the alarm is sounded we are supposed to go to the nearest exit. I am expecting this to happen when I am in my Yoga class. My only concern is that the folks in Tai Chi won’t get there before the drill is over.

Esther Blumenfeld