The 55-plus community my mother lives in has a weekly get-together at its clubhouse. Everyone who chooses to come brings a food item to share; visiting with one another includes the goings-on in their lives: who welcomed grandchildren, who’s expecting visitors and talk of current events.

Showing up at last week’s gathering were only nine people, when most of the time 20 to 30 attend. My mother said it was the lowest turnout ever.

We were both coming up with reasons for the poor showing.

Maybe people were with their families for an extended holiday. Maybe the very cold weather and high winds that day (she lives in New Hampshire) weren’t conducive to going out. Maybe some folks were sick with a cold or the flu.

And, just maybe, the days leading up to the holidays and those soon after remind some seniors of the losses they’ve experienced, and those memories make them melancholy and not eager to spend time with others. According to AARP, more than one in three elderly Americans describe themselves as lonely, and the holidays can be especially isolating for them.

On the heels of the Borderline shooting, Allison, a Senior Concerns case manager, was knocking on doors of the occupants of the senior low-income housing complex where she works.

She was concerned the residents were isolated in their apartments watching the 24/7 coverage of the massacre, feeling shocked and frightened.

Allison encouraged them to come out of their apartments and share their feelings and concerns with her and with each another. It was one small step in promoting community among the seniors she provides counsel, guidance and resources to on a weekly basis.

But just like that, Allison was gone. She had to rush home because her house was in danger.

My friend Dr. Sara Zeff Geber coined the term “solo agers” after realizing so many of her childfree friends were caring for their aging parents.

The question loomed large: Who was going to care for them when they got older?

Geber’s term has expanded to include older adults who are geographically distant from their children or who choose not to rely on them for help as they age.

My husband and I know all too well the challenges of aging alone, as we had “adopted” our elderly neighbors in their last five years of life. With no children or nearby relatives, our neighbors had no one to lean on as their health worsened and activities of daily living became impossible.

Recently my husband attended a tax conference in San Diego. He came home with a complimentary backpack filled with “swag” that included a journal, highlighters, pens and logo’d Post-it notes.

Also inside the backpack was a webcam cover. This was a new one to me. My husband routinely has a piece of tape over his laptop camera, but I assumed it was for when he had an early-morning web conference call (pre-shave and shower) and didn’t want his fellow Zoom conference attendees to be subject to his bedhead.

More techie than a piece of tape, the webcam cover is made for your laptop, computer, tablet or smartphone. It attaches to your device (usually with sticky tape that is included) and slides open when you need to use your webcam and closes for when it is not in use.

Most of my medical challenges occurred when I was young. Years later, I can’t really remember my feelings after those experiences.

But as I contemplate my recent health scare—a piece of steak lodged in my throat, resulting in a tear in my esophagus—I know that it’s definitely taken an emotional toll on me.

My friends say that I don’t sound like myself now. I’m normally an upbeat, energetic, gregarious person.

Today, I would describe myself as anxious, subdued and fatigued. While I know intellectually that one’s time does not go on forever, now I really feel mortal.

I had been chalking my feelings up to a bit of post-traumatic stress disorder from eight hours of not being able to swallow and ultimately undergoing emergency surgery.

Every once in a while, the person upstairs gives you a wake-up call. Mine came a few weeks ago.

Looking back, all the signs were there.

I’d been keeping a supply of Tums in my purse for after meals. I could feel a sensation of acid backing up in my throat when I bent down. Burping became a “thing” for me. And sometimes I had trouble swallowing.

My father had acid reflux, or GERD (gastroesophageal reflux disease), so it wasn’t too farfetched to think that I had it too, but I never put two and two together and took action.

That’s where the person upstairs comes in.

We had just completed our annual Ultimate Dining Experience for Senior Concerns. Attempting to delight 420 people with food, drinks and an entertaining program brings stress as well as rewards.

I was just beginning to relax later that week when friends invited my husband and me out for dinner. Before their invitation,

I’d planned to make filet mignon that night as a treat, so we decided to share a filet at the restaurant.

My first bite, which was no bigger than the size of the nail on my pinky finger, got stuck going down, so I drank some water. Bad idea. The water came up as I rushed to the ladies’ room, but the steak remained stuck.

It seemed too good to be true.

A set of exercises that, if practiced just 10 minutes a day, could make a positive difference in the quality of our body and brain. Activities that can be done by almost anyone, just sitting in a chair. And once learned, they are easy enough to do on our own.

Ageless Grace is a fitness and wellness program consisting of “21 simple tools for lifelong comfort and ease,” designed for all ages and all abilities. The program is based on the science of neuroplasticity, the ability of the brain to build new synaptic connections, especially in response to learning or experience.

It’s also based on ensuring that all the vital parts of our body, those that help us to function efficiently in our daily activities, are exercised.

Lastly, and especially for seniors, the program is intended to help participants develop the agility and cognitive function needed to react, respond and recover from situations they didn’t anticipate.

Recently I participated in a certification course for Ageless Grace.

There comes an age when you begin to hear with increased frequency of the medical challenges or deaths of celebrities you loved growing up. It’s a harsh reminder of our mortality.

Because the stories of these deaths are so widely disseminated, they can also serve as cautionary tales about later life challenges and planning to ensure your own wishes are followed when you die.

The best example of this is Joan Rivers, who lived into her 80s with vibrancy, zest and attitude. Her death was sudden and unexpected. She died from “therapeutic complications” as a result of surgery.

As a comedian, she made many jokes through the years about her death.

Rivers was very close to her daughter, Melissa, and her grandson, Cooper, and before her death she made sure they knew they would survive her loss and go on to live full lives.

Last week someone published our community’s entrance gate code on social media and in printed signage. Neighbors were in an uproar, and, of course, the code needed to be changed to deter trespassers.

While this was an unfortunate situation that cost our homeowners association money (to send a mailing of the new code to all homeowners and for the gate company to reprogram the code), it brought up a larger conversation about security.

I did some reading on the topic and learned that most secure apartment complexes and communities call their gates “entrance and exit” gates, not security gates.

According to Property Management Professionals, a leader in the association management industry, 

Shaving one’s face is a fundamental part of being a man. A generation ago, the act of shaving denoted manhood, pride of appearance, cleanliness, neatness and a person in control and well-groomed.

In the U.S., Canada and Europe, about 85 percent of men shave their beards.

Throughout recent history we have been a society where the appearance of the body is seen to reveal the state of mind of an individual—and men often grew beards when they were in crisis.

Ever hear of the playoff beard? This describes the superstitious practice of male athletes not shaving their beards during playoffs. Introduced in the 1980s by ice hockey players participating in the Stanley Cup playoffs, it’s become a practice in many sports leagues and among fans as well.

But what can be more intrinsic to the emotional well-being of a man than to be able to shave if he wants to?