"The memoir writing students at the DOROT Center found new closeness on Zoom." - Gwynne Hogan

by Gwynne Hogan

“Last March, I visited a senior center in Manhattan on its last day of programming before lockdown forced everything in New York City to a grinding halt. At that point in the pandemic, we were flying blind — elbow-bumping instead of handshaking, but not wearing masks, even in cramped indoor settings.

“I rode my bike to DOROT on the Upper West Side with a lump in my throat, fearing that maybe I was an unknowing vector of the virus. (A traveling group of coughing a cappella singers was performing and my fears abated that I’d be the one to get them sick.)

“I met a group of women in a weekly memoir class, right as the director broke the news that the center was closing because of the coronavirus.

“It came as a blow to the women, especially for Yvonne Rossetti, who was 65 years old at the time.

“‘I think depression is a killer, and certainly many of us are here because maybe we battle depression,’ she’d said to the room. ‘This place is a lifeboat.'”

Keep reading this article at NPR, click here.