Ilze Earner, 67, retired last year after 25 years teaching at Hunter College in Manhattan. Her rural life in Claverack, New York, was filled with contentment and camaraderie, but after a few months, she “started to feel that something was missing,” she said. rice field. She began having lunch every week sitting at the bar of her house in nearby Chatham.
Soon the bartender knew her name (and vice versa) and her love for lobster rolls. Mr. Earner won his game iced his cube his bocce bar top against a highway attendant who also came to lunch. “They realized I had disappeared because I had a knee replacement. When I came back, they said, ‘Hey, Bionic Woman!'”
In Placerville, Calif., 72-year-old veterinarian David Tarloff goes out to chat with mailmen and UPS couriers, greet mechanics fixing trucks, and give firewood. I sometimes stop by. “They make me feel good,” Turoff said of such brief exchanges.
Toby Gould’s day begins with a 7am visit to Chez Antoine, a bakery and coffee shop in Hyannis, Massachusetts. Mr. Gould, 77, is a retired pastor who buys take-out lattes and speaks French while clashing with the Belgian proprietor. Mr. Gould’s Australian His Shepherd, Leila’s slice of ham. If the store closes, “it will open a hole in my life,” Gould said.
Weak ties, including those developed online, do not necessarily turn into close ones, nor do they need to. may be included.
