Late in 1991 I was living in Long Beach and working in the City of Commerce. It was a long trip on three freeways. The house I was renting was being sold so I would have to move. We looked at condos in Long Beach but they were too expensive. 

One day, my daughter found a flyer on her doorstep for a new condo building in Downey. It was for seniors age 55 and up. My daughter went to look at it and thought it was really nice. She later took me to see it and we liked it very much. 

We decided to buy a unit on the top floor. The condo was not completed yet, which gave us time to buy furniture. I moved in in early 1992 and continued working for another year. 

As more neighbors moved in, I would meet them in the elevator or the underground parking garage. I suggested that we organize a “coffee klatch” on Saturday mornings. They agreed, and one lady made the coffee in our lounge kitchen and another brought donuts. We had about 12 residents show up the first time. 

There was one woman who always seemed to have something to say, and it often wasn’t very nice. It was bugging her how old I was. Since I was the only resident who was still working, she thought I must be pretty young. 

One Saturday morning she put her hand on her hip, kind of tough like, and said, “By the way, Helen, just how old are you?”

I replied, “You know that we have to be at least 55 to live here, right? Well, I made it by just three hours!” 

Actually, I was 68 at the time but I wasn’t going to tell her that.