Author: Trinidad Tellez

The elderberries are in full bloom. For my family they hold special significance as they remind us of my father-in law, who passed away almost four years ago.

My father-in-law loved his wild edibles. Every year at about this time he would drive along the country roads of Pickaway County in Ohio where he lived, keeping an eye out for elderberry flowers at the edges of woods and farmers’ fields. He’d carefully take mental note of their location so he could return later in the summer to forage for their magical berries. I’ve heard how he’d make elderberry wine with the berries — or how they’d get baked into one of his wife’s delicious pies. He also had many “adventures” getting stuck in ditches and battling poison ivy and always had colorful stories to share about his quest for those berries.

My husband has continued the elderberry passion, planting them on our property and harvesting them for all things elderberry. He also enjoys spotting them while driving around Manchester and New Hampshire, and talks excitedly about how they evoke memories, brighten up the drives and landscapes, and provide nectar and pollen for our local honey bees — another one of his passions, best left for another day’s column.

Most years, he and our daughter cook up a batch of elderberry syrup that is especially nice on yogurt and vanilla ice-cream. He has not yet forayed into making elderberry wine, but I suspect that is coming. The cooked berries regularly go into people’s smoothies and many live in the freezer for winter treats, once again reminding us of summer’s warmth and of fond times with my father-in-law. (Do note the tart berries can be toxic and should be cooked before eating!)

One of my less-favored consequences of working with elderberries are the inevitable purple-stained fingers that linger for days — and yet they, too, evoke “tasty” memories and trigger anticipation of the next elderberry treat that will be heartily enjoyed. (“Tasty” is a food adjective commonly and enthusiastically used by my husband’s family.)

I realize these little things we take for granted, such as flowers on the side of the road that we may not even notice most days, spark important and meaningful memories. What are the items or events that do the same for you? I hope we can all take time to appreciate and savor the little things that help bring meaning and sweetness to our life today.

My family and I are grateful for the generous gift of memories (and yummy treats) that the elderberries provide us today and every year. I wish the same for you and yours.

Spring is a time of rebirth and renewal. I have found the increase in sunlight hours and warmer weather to be invigorating, inspiring hope and infusing optimism. I’ve noticed more people are out when I am out on my neighborhood walks, often with dogs or baby strollers, and strangers exchange friendly greetings in passing. My walking partner and I have optimistically started a couch-to-5K app regimen. My elderly mother has resumed her daily laps around the driveway, slowly regaining strength and endurance as she shakes off the winter and arthritic deconditioning from months spent indoors. And my husband is carefully tending and planting fig cuttings to grow more fruit trees.

Additionally, with 40.1 percent of New Hampshire’s total population with at least one dose, and 19.2 percent fully vaccinated, according to an April 4 report from NPR, and now all residents age 16 and older eligible, I sense the heightened anticipation for our return to some semblance of the pre-Covid “normal.” And while we patiently wait for all our family and friends to get vaccinated, I am excited to resume safe, outdoor socializing with others, including backyard barbecues and evenings around a firepit, all facilitated by the warmer weather, as social interactions are a really vital contributor to our mental health and well-being.

We know that the pandemic has resulted in many of us feeling isolated and lonely, with increased stress and anxiety, thus necessitating learning healthy ways to cope with stress and build resilience; and sometimes requiring professional assistance. Connecting with others, talking with people we trust about our feelings, and sharing our concerns through meaningful conversation are powerful coping tools. Unwinding, whether alone or with friends, undertaking activities we find enjoyable and doing good and helping others are also helpful for our well-being, as are efforts to take care of our bodies, such as regular physical activity, eating healthfully, getting plenty of sleep, and avoiding excessive alcohol, tobacco and other substance use.

Finally, connecting with community can be really impactful. For me this has manifested as returning to church after a year to resume playing music with others, thanks to being fully vaccinated. And so I returned to accompany the lone keyboardist who has carried on this past year; the other musicians and singers are looking forward to returning once they are vaccinated, as well. In my faith, Easter Sunday is of monumental significance, and the new life and new joy of the occasion was evident in the upbeat and celebratory music and rhythms that stirred clapping and swaying and inspired hope for new beginnings.

As the warmth and wonder of spring unfold, what new opportunities will you be exploring?

I’ve been hearing and thinking about annual cycles lately including Black History Month, the Lunar New Year, Mardi Gras, and the last day we worked in person — or the day our lives changed dramatically — due to the Covid-19 pandemic.

At our house, this one-year mark coincides with my 89-year-old mother getting her second Covid vaccine and that’s a really big deal for us. For the last year, we have been working so hard to keep her safe in the midst of this pandemic. Her health has been our primary motivator to keep wearing masks and physically distance when our longing for social connection was pulling us to congregate with friends – she is the reason we’ve been so cautious. We’re really grateful that she was able to get the vaccine.

Many people who are vulnerable and at risk are waiting eagerly for their turn; others are more hesitant for a variety of reasons. We know that this virus has disproportionately affected some populations at higher rates because of the unique combination of factors that make certain groups more vulnerable — being older, having multiple chronic medical conditions, or being a member of certain racial/ethnic groups. These differences, known as health disparities, arise not because of any biological differences between groups as we are all part of the same human family. Rather, it is for reasons such as being more likely to be employed in essential work settings and thus at greater risk of being exposed to the virus, and more likely to be uninsured and have less access to health care with more chronic medical conditions. These factors are called the social determinants of health, where longstanding underlying inequities have been revealed by the pandemic. That is why some of us say that everything contributes to health, and health contributes to everything — because good health is requisite for our ability to be successful in school, to be productive workers, to enjoy time with our families, and to live long, fulfilling lives.

As a glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel begins to shine with increasing numbers of people vaccinated, and hospitalizations and deaths finally beginning to decline, we can dare to look forward to resuming the in-person celebrations we had to cancel or put off. And I imagine that even the mundane activities of our daily lives will seem celebratory — going to work and chatting around the water-cooler, convening in person, exchanging handshakes and hugs.

The infectious nature of this pandemic has illuminated how we are all connected, that any one of us is only as healthy as others in our community, that we are all in this together — and that at heart, we all want the same thing.

Dr. Trinidad Tellez is a family physician and health equity strategist, community advocate, and consultant.