Donas, coffee, and a conversation with Pete By Dora Martinez, Advocacy Director EL PUEBLO SENIOR CENTER
sure you bring the donas before 1:00 pm, that’s when I get picked up.” Pete started coming to the senior center decades ago after his doctor encouraged him to start walking regularly. He shared that there were days he would do up to 50 laps and then head home. One day, Pete had a fall. He had to stop driving, which really impacted his daily routine. Eventually he made the hard decision to sell his home and moved in with his sister. Pete’s physician encouraged him to remain at the senior center after his daily morning walk and explained the benefits of hanging around the center for a few more hours. He reminded Pete of the fall risks when you find yourself home alone. Having people around him who are not only aware but are trained to assist in those situations is an added benefit. Pete recognized this and the value of building relationships with the people at the center. Today, Pete had done 10 laps. He was finishing his coffee as we went back and forth. The room behind us was playing a familiar tune, a muffled version of Suavemente. A Spanish song played in every quinceañera and Best Buy in the late 90’s early 2000’s that continues to inspire the elders in our community to move their feet and cue half turns. The music stopped and the doors to the lobby welcomed the sweaty and chatty señoras into the common area. “It’s 11:00,” Petey looked at his watch. “Time to take my meds.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out two loose pills. He jokingly blew the
make-believe “lint” or “dust” off them and reached for the plastic bottle to wash them down. “When the Zumba class is over,” he continued, “it’s my reminder to take my medication.” I smiled in acknowledgement. As part of the back and forth, we eventually talked about the rains we were blessed with over the last few days. Pete kept repeating that it was not enough. That 11 inches was the average rainfall in our part of the desert. He pulled his phone out to confirm. Holding the phone close to his lips, “Google, how much rain has Tucson received in 2026?” The voice inside the phone answered. We discussed the findings and compared it to the best monsoon either of us had experienced. Pete Googled two or three other things during our conversation. “How old is the Tucson Rodeo,” and “what is the oldest rodeo in North America?” This led to conversations about mutton busting and barrel racing. At one point he cut me off to say goodbye to Google and thank her for always answering his questions. “Gracias, Bonita,” he said in a tender voice. “Don’t forget to comb your hair.” He laughed at his own joke and turned the phone towards me to expose the screen. I squinted and read “always hold a section of hair near the roots and start combing at the ends…” The next time I visited Pete, I was sure to stop for some donas on my way. I’m still teased about the “micro donas ” I brought to the center. ◆
“If you really want them to talk with you, bring them a box of donas next time,” said a low, raspy voice from behind me. It belonged to an older gentleman who was slouched on a tall chair next to a matching high top table with his grey coffee mug and a plastic water bottle. He was sitting just outside a room that held eleven animated elders, two pocket billiards tables, and a framed picture of the Virgencita. I was near the doorway watching their game. Everything about this felt familiar. This was my first time at the senior center and yet the warm conversations, the smells of coffee, the cowboy hats, and hearing his words felt so familiar. I turned around to introduce myself. “Buenos dias, this is my first time at this senior center. ¿Cómo se llama usted?” “Pete,” he replied quickly. “Pedro, but my friends call me Pete.” He reached for the leather phone case secured to his worn-down leather belt. The holder was the size of a modern iPhone and had PEDRO stamped in big block letters on it. For the next hour or so, Pete and I discussed monsoon season in Tucson, growing up on the south side, his experiences as a construction worker, and moving in to live with his sister. I eventually apologized for not bringing donuts and committed to bringing a baker’s dozen the next time I came to visit. “I’m here Monday through Thursday,” he chuckled. “Just make
Page 8 | September & October 2026, Never Too Late
Pima Council on Aging
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