Growing up in Hong Kong, I helped my mother take her goods to the market to sell. I was only a tiny little girl, but we pushed and pulled heavy boxes using a long rope. During droughts, I had to fetch water from the public well, carrying two full buckets balanced on a bamboo pole across my shoulders. Maybe that’s how I became so strong. As an adult, I never exercised. Then, in 2002, I landed a fabulous job with Emirates Airline in Perth, Australia. The frequent travel to M

I’m 84 now. At age 80 I became a widow. It never occurred to me that love would find me again. Then my good friend Barb died. Barb had been tied at the hip to her husband Jim. I heard he was in deep throes of grief, so I contacted him, though we had never met. His response was short, “Thanks for reaching out.” Some time later, I heard again, “Jim’s not doing well.” I reached out again, “I lost my husband three years ago. Perhaps we could meet for lunch and share our exp

II come from a fourth generation Italian American family in San Francisco and went to an old-fashioned, all-girls private Catholic school. The nuns were my heroines. I went to mass five times a week and collected statues of saints. The nuns were convinced I was going to be one of them. The head nun had favored me since I was a baby. They were ready for me.   But I couldn’t avoid what was going on in the ‘60s. We got the San Francisco Chronicle with stories and pictures abou