She left her apartment and started power walking along the outdoor block-long corridor. Once she reached the stairs, she’d still have to walk several minutes across the complex to Melvin’s office at the clubhouse. “My new friends are zany but are straight shooters and caring. I love them,” Celia had explained to her daughter, Allison, during one of their many awkward calls. “Zany? Does that mean loony tunes?” Allison didn’t call again fortwo weeks.