Coronavirus heartbreak: These spunky great-grandmas are being smart, but seclusion ‘can be lonely’

Mary Azagra

Mary Azagra of Newark with her dog, Buddy, is staying home because of the coronavirus(Barry Carter NJ | Advance Media)

Ann Newsome is 81 years old and every moment she can spend with her daughter is precious. And yet, this is her life these days with the coronavirus surrounding and threatening her in the Central Ward: Her loving and thoughtful daughter went shopping to stock mom’s cabinets and refrigerator, but when she delivered the items, she left them downstairs rather than enter mom’s senior citizen apartment in Newark.

“It’s kind of scary,’’ Newsome said.

New Jersey seniors are living in fear. They know they are the most vulnerable to the virus, but they know, too, that the days they have left on the Earth are numbered. They want to spend these moments with their loved ones, but can’t. They want to hug their children, read to their grandchildren and cradle their great grandkids. But they can’t.

But it’s not just the coronavirus, it’s climate change and racism, it’s political animosity and black and brown communities coming under attack. It’s a world in chaos. And while she insists that she’s not worried about herself, Newsome often thinks about the world her 24 grandchildren and 13 great-grandchildren will inherit.

“I don’t know if it’s going to be a safe world for them,’’ Newsome said. “You don’t know what it’s going to be.’’

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In the Ironbound section of the city, Mary Azagra, remains optimistic for her eight grandchildren and eight great-grandchildren. She’s appealing to a divine power.

“It’s up to someone greater than us, and you, know, He don’t make no mistakes,’’ Azagra said.

Each generation has faced its crises, she says with the wisdom of history and experience in her scrap books -- the Great Depression, World Wars, the economic collapse of 2008 and now this. Americans will find their way again when it’s all said and done.

“This one," she says, "just has a bigger name.’’

She recalls something called “The Grip,’’ a virus or bad chest cold that swept through Newark when she was growing up in the Ironbound. Back then, her mother’s concoction – drinking warm milk, mixed with butter and honey – worked well with Vick’s VapoRub on your chest, head and back.

“You’d jump into the bed, cover yourself up and sweat it out,’’ Azagra said. “I’m still here.’’

Newsome, who grew up in Jackson, N.C., said she can’t remember anything like the coronavirus as a kid or when she moved to Newark in 1964.

In the South, families relied on castor oil during the winters to ward of sickness. When her grandmother wasn’t looking, though, Newsome pretended to drink the bitter home remedy and ditched her portion in the ashes by the wood burning stove.

You don’t get to live this long by ignoring what the medical experts say, so both women listen to the health guidelines now, although, truth be tokd, Azagra is growing weary of all this hand-washing: “Everything they’re telling us to do, I’m doing,” she said. “I’m no fool.’’

Azagra hasn’t been to the clubhouse at Independence Park, where she is president of the senior citizen Monday Club. Her other activities, including a fashion extravaganza committee and another on the status of women, have been canceled. In the meantime, Azagra has been catching up chores around the house. She’s still exercising, staying mentally focused and choosing not to tell me her age.

She wants me to let you know she still a pistol: “By the way I’m speaking to you, you can say, 'She is a little sharp.’’’

Witty, too.

Newsome, who will celebrate her birthday in May, said she feels fine. No walkers, wheelchairs or canes. Age, however, has slowed her down but her six children look out.

“I’m just old,’’ she said, laughing.

She misses playing Spades, a card game, during the evenings in her building’s community room. The facility closed last week before she could retrieve her bingo machine and prizes for seniors. She hosted the game, calling out winners twice a week. Limited contact now also means no sitting in the lobby, either. The chairs are turned up.

“It can be lonely,’’ she says. “I’m just praying for the best.’’

When her daughter dropped off the food, Newsome saw a new tenant moving in and she had grandchildren. She was concerned since health professionals have suggested that younger people stay away from older relatives.

“You never know who you are around,’’ Newsome said.

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Barry Carter may be reached at bcarter@njadvancemedia.com. Follow him on Twitter @BarryCarterSL. Find NJ.com on Facebook. Have a tip? Tell us. nj.com/tips.

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