As many older adults know, it is often difficult to forge close personal relationships when you relocate to a new place. Most people already have an intimate circle of friends, a comfortable routine, regular work or leisure activities — organized lives. And suddenly, there you are, reaching out and hoping to find friendship and build a new life for yourself.
When my husband and I first moved to Tucson some years ago, we were facing our new surroundings together. We had spent some months in Tucson for three successive years and were excited to finally make the city our home.
Unfortunately, my husband, who had many health problems, died within a year and a few months of our arrival. Instead of sharing an exciting new adventure, I found myself adrift and alone, far from family and close friends.
The first Rosh Hashanah after Shelby died, I attended services at a local synagogue we had joined and sat in the front of the sanctuary. I had tried sitting in two other locations but was told the seats were reserved for family. On my third try, I landed in the second row. A high holiday volunteer asked if I had an aliyah, as the front two rows were for participants in the service. I said no. But before she could ask me to move yet again, my eyes filled with tears, and I asked her to please not make me move.
To her credit, she told me to stay where I was. Later, she asked me if I was all right. I was thankful for her concern.
What to Do
Now that I was alone, I thought a great deal about what I needed to do to integrate into the community and to find friends. I read many articles about what elements make for a successful old age and how I should approach my new single status.
The two that seemed most important, at least for me, were community and purpose. Without community and a reason to persevere in the face of possible health challenges, increasing isolation, and a more restricted life, chances are I would find little motivation to keep going. This is what gerontological studies say, and I tend to agree.
Experts also warn that without community and purpose, one is more susceptible to illness, depression, bouts of loneliness, and perhaps, even dying prematurely.
With these warnings in mind, I began to evaluate my situation to see what I could do to find purpose and community.
A Work in Progress
Shelby and I had been lucky in our choice of a home. As a result, I was part of a community with an active HOA (homeowners association) and friendly neighbors. And having a dog was a definite advantage. Even during COVID, I would meet people when I walked the dog and exchange names and addresses. Afterwards, I would return home, pull out the list of residents in our community, check off my new acquaintance, and add the name of his/her dog. This process helped me remember who the dog owners were and where they lived. Just being able to greet people by name and say hello during those dark days broke my feelings of isolation.
To this day, my neighbors provide a sense of community. It is rare to go for a walk and not meet someone to schmooze with. Volunteers plan dinners at local restaurants and a monthly potluck supper for single women. I don’t always attend, but recently, I hosted a singles women’s group.
After COVID, I needed to expand my circle and find purpose, so I wrote letters and met with people within the broader community to volunteer my services. Most letters went unanswered, even after I followed up with phone calls. Later, there appeared to be a promise of ongoing volunteer work from more than one organization, but nothing came of it. In one case, I wondered if antisemitism might be at work. What I learned in these cases was to take expressions of interest and vague promises with a grain of salt.
One friend, who relocated to L.A. with her husband to be closer to her son, told me that looking for a volunteer opportunity there was like looking for a job, requiring interviews and references. “Been there, done that,” she noted dryly. “I’m not going to do it.” Instead, she is writing a book.
Several people suggested I join a committee to find purpose and friendship. I have never been much of a committee person, having worked my whole life, been a single parent for some years, and, lest I forget, commuted from New Jersey to New York, an hour and a half each way. I remember falling asleep more than once on the Erie Lackawanna train on my way home from New York, only to end up one or two towns over in need of a ride home.
Despite my initial disappointments, I continued to look for community and purpose. There were hits and misses. There still are. But lately, I have been feeling more satisfied with my life and more at peace. It has taken a few years.
What has worked for me
The synagogue Shelby and I joined when we first arrived in Tucson has become my synagogue. From the beginning, I found most congregants warm and welcoming. At every Friday service, there are greeters in the lobby offering name tags. To this day, I still love the idea of name tags. It takes time to match a face and a name. And being able to use someone’s name creates an opening for a meaningful interaction. It also makes visitors feel welcome.
My relationships with the friends who encouraged our joining the synagogue have deepened. I feel blessed to have such compassionate and thoughtful friends in my life.
In addition to the name tags, the rabbi always asks us to acknowledge those sitting around us whom we don’t know. So early in the service, we turn front and back, left and right, and introduce ourselves to those people we have not met before. Finally, during a healing prayer in our service, we hold hands, which, to me, is a physical manifestation of our common humanity and faith.
After services during the Oneg Shabbat, I initially sat with strangers, who have become friends.
These synagogue rituals — name tags, acknowledging other attendees, the healing prayer, and, of course, the Oneg — have all created a sense of belonging and community.
Whether one believes in G-d, a creator, a universal power, or nothing, we are all seeking a spiritual setting with other Jews and a feeling of belonging. I didn’t start by attending services weekly, but eventually I did. And, incidentally, once I decided I should no longer drive at night, a synagogue friend stepped up to take me to and from services every Friday night. How lucky am I?
Last year, I did sit on a synagogue committee, resulting in my running a session at our synagogue retreat. I spent three months preparing for the session. It certainly gave me purpose, but it was a solitary journey. Infrequent committee meetings did not lead to any lasting relationships with other committee members.
But as each week winds down, I look forward to Friday night services and feel grounded. Whatever happened or didn’t happen during the week is somehow set aright when I attend services. I like to say I have only three notes, but I sing with gusto despite my deficits. By the way, I often attend on Shabbat morning as well.
In the meantime, I have made sandwiches for a women’s shelter and prepared hygiene packages for a local agency and Passover baskets (all through the synagogue’s social action committee). I volunteered at the Maccabiah Games and took tickets at the Jewish film festival, the latter two at the “J” — the Tucson Jewish Community Center.
A major change in my life occurred a year and a half ago, almost five years after arriving in Tucson. I started writing regularly for the Arizona Jewish Post, which has enabled me to continue my writing career. This has definitely shaped my life and given me purpose.
Lately, I have added additional activities to my schedule. I have started reviving my rusty Hebrew skills on the Duolingo website, and I signed up for a Hebrew conversation class at the J. It was wonderful being with a group of people who share this interest. And the variety of people who came was unexpected. There were age differences, religious differences, Hebrew comprehension differences. Yet it worked. We are creating a small community with a common purpose.
Perhaps most importantly, I have found it helpful to be friendly and open to meeting new people. You never know who you may meet at a lecture or a concert. Surprisingly, I made a lovely friend, a symphony trustee, who had called to solicit my gift. We had so much in common that a friendship ensued.
And recently, I met new neighbors while walking my dog. After sharing a conversation on Tucson theaters, a common interest, I mentioned I had not gone to the theater much since my husband died. Subsequently, they asked if I would like to subscribe to The Rogue and go with them next season. Yesterday I mailed off my check for season tickets. I am thrilled.
It is trial and error.
I’ve decided that growing old is an ongoing experiment and creating roots and relationships in a new home takes time, energy, and dedication. Have I had bouts of loneliness and depression? Yes. It is still not always easy for me. But I continue to reach out, trying to create relationships and find purpose, the elements that make my life more meaningful.
