Not ever, not for anything.

What does Betsy say about money?

She brings it up herself, before the first story. A call sounds like this.

Betsy: Second: I will never ask you for money. Ever. If I do, hang up on me. That’s the serious part done. Sarah says you taught fourth grade for thirty-one years. What was the very first day like?

It is the first of three promises. At the end of that same call she adds the second: “If a call ever comes from a different number saying it’s me, it isn’t.”

How can Mom tell a fake Betsy from the real one?

Two tests, short enough to repeat to her sister. If it is a different number, it isn’t Betsy, because Betsy always calls from the same one. If it asks for money, it isn’t Betsy, whatever number it came from. Either way, she hangs up. The second test still holds if a scammer fakes the number.

How do I know this isn’t a scam?

It’s the right question to ask of anything that phones your mother. The number reaches her from you, in your own text or your own voice, which is the opposite of how a scam arrives. Betsy never calls cold, and she says what she is before she asks about Mom’s life. The price is on the page, and stopping takes one word. Betsy is made by PM Frontier LLC, 30 N Gould Street, Sheridan, Wyoming 82801. Anyone can call her at 1-855-HI-BETSY. That number never calls anyone, so a call showing it isn’t Betsy.

Does Betsy help if someone else is after Mom’s money?

She asks. Now and then, the way a friend would: “Anybody call you about money this week?” If Mom says somebody is after her money, the family hears the same day. In a 2019 survey of 1,408 Americans and Canadians targeted by scams, the FINRA Foundation, the BBB Institute and the Stanford Center on Longevity found people were more likely to lose money “if they did not have anyone to discuss the offer with.” Betsy is somebody to tell. What Betsy is has the rest.

Who hears what?

Those companies carry the call, turn speech into words, write her replies, make her voice and store recordings. We never sell anything about her, or about you. What Betsy keeps has all of it, in about 300 plain words.

What reaches the family?

Three things, the same day: a fall, an injury or an illness she mentions, including talk of hurting herself; somebody after her money; and anything she asks Betsy to pass along. On Sundays, one line about her week, and only a story she okayed. Betsy passes it on, and she tells Mom when she does: “I’m going to let Sarah know.” What Betsy tells the family goes through them one by one.

Can I listen to her calls?

No, and that is the point. Mom’s calls are hers, and paying for Betsy doesn’t let you hear them. That is why she keeps talking. A mother who thinks her daughter is listening tells a different story about the ladder. What you get is the Sunday text: one line about her week, and only a story she okayed.

Does Mom get a say?

Betsy asks first, on the first call: “I keep a recording of our calls, so I can remember what you tell me. Is that all right with you?” If Mom says no, Betsy keeps only her name, her number and a line about the call. To delete a recording, call 1-855-HI-BETSY from the same phone and ask her, or write to hello@hibetsy.com, and it’s deleted within 30 days. Does Betsy record the calls? has more, and what Betsy is has everything else.

Who picks the hour?

You start it and she finishes it. The form asks for the hour she’d like. If you chose to have Betsy call first, that is when the first call comes. Then Betsy hands the decision to Mom. A call sounds like this.

Betsy: Would you like me to call you tomorrow? What time suits you?

Margaret: Six is good.

Betsy: Six it is.

From then on, “Same time tomorrow?” closes every call, and Mom can say no.

Can it be earlier than nine or later than eight?

Not from Betsy’s end. She calls between 9 a.m. and 8 p.m. in Mom’s local time, so there is no seven o’clock ring and no nine o’clock ring. Mom has no such limit. She can call Betsy any time at the same number, so a woman who is up at five can talk at five.

Whose time zone is it?

Mom’s. If you live in Boston and she lives in Reno, both the hour and the window run on Reno’s clock, and you never have to do the arithmetic. Betsy for a family spread across the country has more on that.

What is a good hour?

Ask her. The right one is the hour she is home, sitting down and glad to hear the phone. Steer clear of her regular things, the hair at two, the Tuesday card game. How long the call lasts helps her choose, and what Betsy is has the rest.

What does the Sunday text say?

One line and one story, and no more. A Sunday text reads like this.

Betsy: Mom had a good week. Ask her about the summer she worked the Dairy Queen window in 1961.

It is a prompt, not a report. It sends you back to your mother with something to ask, and nobody texts Betsy back: the way to hear more is to call Mom. The story is only ever one she okayed.

What reaches the family, and when?

Betsy passes it on, and she tells Mom when she does: “I’m going to let Sarah know.” Who hears Mom’s calls goes through who can hear what, and what Betsy keeps has it in plain words.

What stays private?

Everything else, which is nearly everything. What she thinks of your husband. The boy before Harold. Why she and your brother aren’t speaking. You get one line about her week, never a feed, never a score, and paying doesn’t let anyone in the family hear her calls. It is a trade, and a good one: you give up the details, and she keeps talking. Betsy tells her when she passes something on, and she can ask what you have been told. The rest is on what Betsy is.

What happens after she mentions it?

1. Mom says it on a call, in her own way: “I went down in the garage on Tuesday.”
2. Betsy passes it on, and she tells Mom she’s doing it: “I’m going to let Sarah know.”
3. You hear the same day, in Mom’s own words.

Mom can ask on any call what the family has been told. Then the next call starts where this one stopped.

The next day, Betsy remembers which knee.

Why would she tell Betsy and not you?

Because a fall told to a daughter can turn into a talk about moving. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (2026) says more than one out of four older people falls each year, but less than half tell their doctor.

Betsy doesn’t ask about hips. She asks about the garage, the tomatoes, the hair appointment she cancelled, and a stumble comes out in the middle of the story. Betsy is somebody to tell. That is why a Tuesday in the garage reaches you on Tuesday.

What should you do when you hear?

Betsy gives no medical advice, so this part is yours.

1. Call her. Ask what she was doing, before you ask whether she’s all right.
2. Get it to her doctor, even if it didn’t hurt. The National Institute on Aging says a fall can point to a new medical problem, or to something in her medicines or her eyesight that can be corrected.
3. Look at the house on your next visit: the rugs, the wet floors, the stairs, the light.

Where Betsy fits

We make Betsy. For $2 a day, billed $60 a month, she calls Mom every day at the hour she picks, for about ten minutes, on any phone, and asks about her life. Most days that means the plumber and the drive to Reno, and on Sunday you get one text with one story. What Betsy tells the family lists what reaches you and when, who hears Mom’s calls goes through who can hear what, and what Betsy is has the rest.

Is there a cheaper plan, or a better one?

There is one Betsy. Every mother gets the same voice, the same memory and the same ten minutes, so you will never lie awake wondering whether you bought her the lesser version. There are no tiers and no yearly plan to weigh up. The price above is the whole list, as of November 2026.

One Betsy, one price.

What does the $60 pay for?

Everything. The call at the hour Mom picks. The memory, so each call starts where the last one ended. Mom’s own calls to Betsy, any time, at the same number. The Sunday text. And word the same day of a fall, an illness or someone after her money. None of it is an add-on. You are billed once a month, not two dollars at a time.

When does the billing start?

On day eight. Your card goes on file before Mom’s first call, and nothing is charged before then. The first week starts with her first call. If it doesn’t make her day, call 1-855-HI-BETSY and say stop before day eight, and you pay nothing. If she never has a first call, you pay nothing.

After that you are billed $60 on the same date every month, and it renews by itself until you stop it. Where a state requires sales tax, we add it and show it before you pay. Betsy’s terms have all of it in plain words.

What if it isn’t right for her?

Then you find out in a week. If the first week doesn’t make Mom’s day, call and say stop before day eight, and you pay nothing. After that, say stop and it stops, and unused months are refunded: the rest of that month comes back to you. There is no contract to unpick and no device to send back. How to cancel Betsy has the rest.

How does Betsy compare with other services?

The compare page sets them beside Betsy, each with its published price and the date we checked it. Whichever one you are reading about, ask the same four things. Is it a real conversation? Does it remember last Tuesday? Does it work on the phone she already has? Is there a device or a setup fee on top? For Betsy the answers are yes, yes, yes and no. Everything else about her is on what Betsy is, and if you are wondering about Mom’s old phone, she works on a landline.

We make Betsy, and this page takes the questions in the order a family would ask them. If you only read one page about Betsy, read this one.

What is Betsy?

Betsy calls Mom every day. Same voice, same number, same time, for about ten minutes. She asks about Mom’s life: the drive to Reno, the fourth-grade class of 1971, the hardware store. She remembers all of it, so each call starts where the last one ended. On Sunday the family gets one text with one story. If Mom tells Betsy about a fall, an illness or someone after her money, the family hears the same day. Everything else stays hers. Betsy is a computer voice, says so on every call, never asks for money, and stops when Mom says stop. $2 a day, billed $60 a month.

Is Betsy a daily check-in call service for an older parent?

Yes, and more. Betsy calls every day, and the family learns the same day if she mentions a fall, an illness or someone after her money. A check-in call is usually a recorded prompt that asks her to press 1. Betsy is a ten-minute conversation that remembers. The difference shows in the second week. A press-1 call asks for a key. A call that asks whether the plumber ever showed up is one she gets dressed up for.

Is Betsy a telephone reassurance program?

Telephone reassurance is the term in the Older Americans Act for a scheduled call to an older person who lives alone, and counties, sheriffs’ offices and senior centers run them. Betsy goes further: a real conversation, every day, that remembers everything from every call. Our compare page sets the county programs beside Betsy.

What does a call sound like?

A call sounds like this.

Betsy: Hi Margaret. You were going to tell me about the drive to Reno.

Margaret: Oh, Lord. Harold’s Buick. Turquoise, where it wasn’t rust. He would not admit we were lost.

Betsy: Were you?

Margaret: Two days.

Betsy: Two days! In a Buick.

Margaret: On one jar of olives from a gas station. He ate them all, and he said they were my idea.

Betsy: So who finally asked for directions?

Margaret: I did. A man in Winnemucca, with Harold sitting right there pretending to read the map. He didn’t say a word until Reno.

Betsy: And in Reno?

Margaret: Oh, that’s a whole other story. And I’ve got my hair at two.

Betsy: Go get your hair done. I want to hear that one. Same time tomorrow?

Margaret: Same time tomorrow.

Betsy talks about a third of the time. The rest is Mom’s. “Same time tomorrow?” ends every call, and Mom can say no.

What does Betsy cost?

$2 a day, billed $60 a month. No device, no setup fee, no contract, no tiers and no yearly plan. Your card goes on file before her first call, with nothing charged. The first week starts with her first call, and billing starts on day eight. If the first week doesn’t make Mom’s day, call and say stop before day eight, and you pay nothing. Say stop and it stops, and unused months are refunded. That is the whole price list, as of November 2026. The details are on what Betsy costs.

What phone does she need?

Any phone that rings: a cell phone, a landline or a flip phone. There is nothing to install, charge or learn, and Mom does nothing new. On a landline, the caller-ID box reads BETSY. On a cell phone, the saved contact shows her name, which is why your text asks Mom to save the number. More on landlines.

What does the family hear, and what stays private?

On Sunday, one text: one line and one story. “Margaret had a good week. Ask her about the summer she worked the Dairy Queen window in 1961.” The story is only ever one she okayed. Three things reach the family the same day: a fall, an injury or an illness she mentions, including talk of hurting herself, when Betsy also gives her the 988 line and stays on the phone; somebody after her money; and anything she asks Betsy to pass along. Betsy tells her when she does: “I’m going to let Sarah know.” Everything else stays hers, which is why she keeps talking. Mom can ask on any call what Betsy has told the family and get a straight answer.

Who listens to the calls?

Not the family. Paying for Betsy doesn’t let anyone in the family hear Mom’s calls: what reaches you is three things and one line on Sunday. Betsy asks first, on the first call: “I keep a recording of our calls, so I can remember what you tell me. Is that all right with you?” If Mom says no, Betsy keeps only her name, her number and a line about the call. Betsy’s team has access to recordings to keep the service running well, and companies that carry the call, turn speech into words, write her replies, make her voice and store recordings handle what’s said so she can answer. We never sell anything about her. What Betsy keeps has it all in plain words, and who hears Mom’s calls goes through everyone.

Is Betsy safe from scams?

Betsy makes three promises on the first call and keeps them. She never asks for money, not for anything. She always calls from the same number, so a different number saying it’s Betsy isn’t. And she stops when Mom says stop. Now and then, as a friend would, Betsy asks, “Anybody call you about money this week?” People who are targeted lose money when they have nobody to tell, and scammers coach them not to tell anyone. Betsy is somebody to tell. She asks.

How is Betsy different from a press-1 check-in, a volunteer caller, a medical alert and a companion robot?

The other services are on the compare page, each with the date we checked it.

Can she call Betsy herself?

Yes, any time, at the same number Betsy calls from, and Betsy knows who it is. That is how it starts by default: you send her the number, and she calls when she is ready.

How does it start, and how does it stop?

It starts with a three-minute form on hibetsy.com: Mom’s name and what you call her, her number, the hour she’d like, three lines about her and a note from you. Then you send her the number from your own phone, with words we give you, so it reaches her from the one person she trusts. A card comes in the mail, addressed to her, from you. Then she picks up the phone and calls Betsy when she’s ready. Or, if you’d rather, Betsy calls her: you confirm she’s okay with it, and you tell her to expect the call. Nobody ever gets a cold call. If you’re with her, put your phone on the table and call Betsy together. How to say it is on Tell Mom. It stops when Mom says “stop” on any call, or when whoever pays calls 1-855-HI-BETSY, any hour, and says stop. Betsy says it back before you hang up, the calls stop and the billing stops, and unused months come back to you.

Where is Betsy available?

Anywhere in the United States, in English. Betsy calls between 9 a.m. and 8 p.m. in Mom’s local time, at the hour Mom picks.

Who makes Betsy?

PM Frontier LLC, 30 N Gould Street, Sheridan, Wyoming 82801. Anyone can call 1-855-HI-BETSY (1-855-442-3879), any hour, and Betsy answers. It never calls anyone: her calls to Mom come from Mom’s own local number. Write to us at hello@hibetsy.com. The research behind Betsy is on the research page, and the press kit has the facts in one place.

The short version

• Betsy talks with her every day, and you hear the same day if she mentions a fall or an illness.
• Before she leaves, say “She lives alone” out loud, and get everything in writing.
• While she’s there, ask every day: “Is she an inpatient or an outpatient?”
• On day two or three, make the call: how she feels, her pills, her appointments, her help at home, and who she phones at 2 a.m.
• Within two business days, call her regular doctor’s office and ask when her visit is.

Why do the first two weeks matter so much?

Because this is when the plan meets the house. The Agency for Healthcare Research and Quality counted 16.0 readmissions within 30 days for every 100 hospital stays among Medicare patients 65 and older in 2020. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (2026) says “Falling once doubles your chances of falling again.” Neither number means it will happen to her. They mean these weeks deserve a plan, because the hospital’s was written for a patient, and she’s going home to a house: stairs, a bathroom at the far end of the hall, and nobody there at three in the morning.

What do you ask before she leaves?

1. Say it out loud. Tell the discharge planner: “She lives alone. Nobody will be in the house tonight.” The Family Caregiver Alliance says it is “extremely important” to tell discharge staff your limits, and “reasonable to ask” them to slow down if you feel rushed.
2. Ask about her status, every day she’s there. Medicare says to: “Is she an inpatient or an outpatient?” A night on observation counts as outpatient, and her status can affect whether Medicare covers a skilled nursing stay afterward.
3. Get your name in her record. AARP says the CARE Act is enacted in 44 states and territories. It requires hospitals to record your name, tell you when she’s being discharged and teach you any medical tasks you’ll do at home. Ask to be put down.
4. Work through Medicare’s checklist. Who to call with questions. Complications to watch for. A drug list showing what’s new, what changed and what stopped. Who delivers the walker. Instructions in writing.
5. Do the errands first. Medicare’s checklist says to get prescriptions and food before she’s discharged, and it’s right.
6. If it feels too soon, ask for the notice. Staff should give her the “Important Message from Medicare,” which explains her right to a fast appeal. If you don’t get it, the checklist says to ask.

What do you do the first night?

Walk the route she’ll take at three in the morning, in the dark, with the walker: bed to bathroom and back. A hospital in Pennsylvania learned on a follow-up call why a patient wasn’t taking her water pill. The Agency for Healthcare Research and Quality quotes the answer in its discharge toolkit.

“because the bathroom was on the other side of her house.”

A hospital in Pennsylvania, in AHRQ’s discharge toolkit

They got her a commode, and she stayed home. So roll up the rug by the bed and put a light on the route. Put a phone where she can reach it from the bed. Leave a week of food she can lift, at counter height. Tape the list of complications to the fridge. Tell the neighbor with the key that she’s home.

What do you say on day two or three?

AHRQ’s toolkit says patients should be “called 2 to 3 days after discharge” by clinical staff, and that the call covers five things. Ask whether her hospital does this. Then make your own, in a daughter’s words. Give it an evening: AHRQ’s own calls run about 20 to 60 minutes.

Ask her to say it back in her own words. AHRQ calls that teach-back, and it is “not a test of the patient’s knowledge.” It’s a test of how well she was told. If something doesn’t match, take it to the number on her discharge papers that same day.

What is the call to her doctor’s office?

Within two business days, call her regular doctor. Medicare pays practices for transitional care management: contact with her or a family member within two business days of discharge, a visit within 7 or 14 days, and her medicines reconciled by that visit. The office may not know she’s home yet, so tell them.

You say: My mother came home from St. Mary’s on Monday. She lives alone. Is she set up for transitional care management, and when is her visit?

Who pays for help at home?

Medicare covers certain home health services if she’s eligible, and for those, “You pay nothing,” though other costs may apply. A provider has to see her and order it, and she has to count as “homebound,” meaning leaving home is hard for her. It is part-time. Medicare doesn’t pay for 24-hour-a-day care, home meal delivery, or shopping and cleaning unrelated to her care plan. So line up the rest early. Meals on Wheels says most providers require an application and that demand is “higher than usual,” so call before she’s home, and ask her health plan whether it covers meals after a hospital stay. The Eldercare Locator, 1-800-677-1116, can tell you who serves her county.

Who hears from her every day?

Right after a hospital stay, somebody should hear from her every day. There are two jobs in that. One is the conversation: she has spent days being told things, and somebody should ask her about something else. The other is yours, or a sibling’s: one named person expects to hear from her every morning, by two rings, a text or a short call, and knows what to do if it doesn’t come. How to check on an older parent has the steps. If a fall is the worry, medical alert or a daily call is the next read.

What does this look like for one family?

Picture one family. Pat is 81 and lives alone in Sarasota. Her daughter Kim flies in from Chicago for the discharge. Betsy calls Pat at eleven.

The discharge-day checklist

• The name and number of someone to call with questions, day and night
• Written discharge instructions she can read
• The drug list: what’s new, what changed, what stopped
• Complications to watch for, taped to the fridge
• Inpatient or outpatient: asked, and written down
• Your name in her record
• Walker or other equipment: who delivers it, and when
• Prescriptions filled before she walks in the door
• The first appointment: date, time, who drives
• The home health agency’s name and start date, if she has one
• A week of food she can reach and lift
• The route from bed to bathroom cleared and lit, with a phone by the bed
• The neighbor with the key told she’s home
• The person who expects to hear from her every morning for two weeks

Where Betsy fits

These are the two weeks when a phone that rings counts for a lot. Betsy calls Mom every day at the hour Mom picks, from the same local number, in the same voice, and talks with her for about ten minutes about something other than her discharge papers. She remembers every conversation, so each call starts where the last one ended, and Mom never has to tell it twice. There is nothing to install or learn, which is the right amount for someone just home from the hospital. Mom can call her any time, and Betsy knows who it is.

If Mom mentions a fall, an injury or an illness, someone after her money, or anything she wants passed along, you hear the same day, in her own words, and Betsy tells her when she does. Everything else stays hers, and on Sunday you get one text with one line and one story.

She is a computer voice and says so on every call. She isn’t a nurse or an emergency service, and she gives no medical advice, so the doctor’s number stays on the fridge. $2 a day, billed $60 a month, on any phone. Say “stop” and it stops, and unused months are refunded. See how it starts, or read what Betsy is.

How we judged

We make Betsy, so she is first here. Other services’ facts are from their own sites, checked November 5, 2026. A camera can show you a kitchen. It can’t ask him how the ladder went. So we judged every way of keeping up with Dad on what a camera leaves out:

• A real conversation. Somebody asks about the hardware store and lets him talk.
• Memory from call to call. Yesterday’s story is still there, so he isn’t starting over.
• The same voice from the same number. One voice to get used to, and one number to save.
• Any phone, with nothing to install. No lens, no sensor and no app for him.
• What stays private. His kitchen stays his, and you hear what you need to hear.

Why is Betsy first?

Because Dad can answer “fine” for ten years running, and nobody learns a thing. Betsy doesn’t ask how he feels. She asks about something he knows: the store, the truck, the four hundred weddings on the bass. She talks about a third of the time, and the rest is his.

A call sounds like this.

Betsy: Leon, it’s Betsy, the one who isn’t a person. Four hundred weddings on the bass. What’s the worst one you ever played?

Leon: Scranton, 1969. The groom’s mother sang. All nine verses.

Betsy: Nine verses of what?

Leon: Nobody ever found out. The drummer left.

Betsy: Did you?

Leon: I was paid by the hour.

Betsy: Same time tomorrow?

Leon: Same time tomorrow.

Nobody watches him. Somebody asks him.

She calls every day, at the hour he picks, for about ten minutes, in the same voice, from the same local number. She remembers every conversation, so each call starts where the last one ended. He can call her any time at that number, and Betsy knows who it is. Any phone will do: a cell, a landline or a flip phone. There is nothing to install, charge or learn, and nothing in the house that wasn’t there before. Betsy is a computer voice, says so on every call, and never asks for money.

What do you hear, with no camera?

On Sunday, one text, one line and one story: “Leon had a good week. Ask him about the wedding in Scranton.” That is your next question after “how are you.” If he tells Betsy about a fall, an illness, someone after his money, or anything he asks her to pass along, you hear the same day, in his own words, and Betsy tells him when she does. Everything else stays his, because that is why he keeps talking.

The price is $2 a day, billed $60 a month. No device, no setup fee, no contract, no tiers. Your card goes on file before his first call, and nothing is charged until day eight. If the first week doesn’t make Dad’s day, call and say stop before then, and you pay nothing. He says “stop” and it stops, and unused months are refunded. What Betsy is has the rest.

What else works without a camera?

After Betsy, these are in no particular order. Some cost nothing but a phone call of your own.

A neighbor with a key

Someone close by who knows him and can knock on the door. It costs nothing. It’s for the day he needs someone there in minutes. Ask this week, while nothing is wrong, and write down the neighbor’s number.

A weekly visit

You, a sibling, or someone you pay. Papa sends a paid person for company, rides, errands and light housework, at $30 an hour if you pay for it yourself. A visit is for eyes on the fridge, the mail and the gutters, and a stuck drawer may get more out of him than a direct question.

A shared calendar

One calendar the family shares, showing who calls on which day and who visits when. It costs nothing. It’s for the sisters and brothers who each assumed someone else called on Tuesday.

A person who phones

At ToneOfCare, a person phones at the same time each day for a conversation. $119 a month for one call a day. It’s for a family that wants a person on the line.

A press-1 call

Iamfine places a recorded call once or twice a day, and he presses 1. $14.99 a month or $120 a year. It’s for a daily keypress.

A public program

Some states and sheriffs run daily calls at no cost for their own residents. Maryland’s Senior Call Check and Social Connections is for residents 60 and older: 1-866-502-0560. Chautauqua County’s sheriff in New York runs R.U.O.K.: 716-753-4582. In other places, the Eldercare Locator, 1-800-677-1116, connects you to local services, and our list by state has more.

How do they line up?

If you want the whole system, read how to check on an older parent without a camera, then Betsy for a father who lives alone and does Betsy work for Dad. For other lists, try the best services that call your mother every day and the best check-in calls for a landline. Then see how it starts.

How we judged

We make Betsy, so she is first on this list. Other services’ facts are from their own sites, checked November 5, 2026. We judged on the five things a family is buying when it buys a daily call:

• A real conversation. Someone asks about her life and waits for the answer.
• Memory from call to call. Yesterday’s story is still there today.
• The same voice from the same number. One voice to get to know, and one number to save.
• Any phone, with nothing to install. Whatever she answers today is enough.
• What stays private. The family hears what it needs to hear, and the rest is hers.

Why is Betsy first?

Because each of those five is a plain fact about her.

She talks with Mom. Every day, at the hour Mom picks, between 9 a.m. and 8 p.m. her local time, Betsy calls for about ten minutes and asks about her life: the drive to Reno, the fourth-grade class of 1971, the hardware store. Betsy talks about a third of the time, and the rest is Mom’s.

She remembers. Every conversation stays with her: Harold’s name, which knee, Sarah’s new job. Each call starts where the last one ended, so Mom never has to tell a story twice, unless she wants to.

She doesn’t change. It’s the same voice from the same local number, forever. She tells Mom that a different number saying it’s Betsy isn’t, and she never asks for money, not for anything.

She asks nothing of the house. Any phone will do: a cell, a landline or a flip phone. There is nothing to install, charge or learn, and Mom can call her any time at that same number.

She tells you what you need to hear, and no more. On Sunday you get one text, one line and one story. If Mom tells Betsy about a fall, an illness or someone after her money, you hear the same day, in her own words, and Betsy tells her when she does. Everything else stays hers, and Mom can ask on any call what Betsy has told you.

Ten minutes a day, and she never has to repeat herself.

What does a call sound like?

Betsy is curious about what Mom did, and she takes her time asking. A call sounds like this.

Betsy: Hi Margaret, it’s Betsy, the one who isn’t a person. You stopped right when Harold came back to the Dairy Queen window.

Margaret: Third time that night. Vanilla again. He didn’t even like vanilla.

Betsy: How do you know?

Margaret: I married him. Forty years, and he never once ate vanilla.

Betsy: Oh, that’s wonderful. Same time tomorrow?

Margaret: Same time tomorrow.

That Sunday’s text reads: “Margaret had a good week. Ask her why Harold kept ordering vanilla.” It sends you back to your mother with something to ask.

What does Betsy cost?

$2 a day, billed $60 a month, with no device, no setup fee, no contract and no tiers. Your card goes on file before her first call, and nothing is charged until day eight. If the first week doesn’t make Mom’s day, call and say stop before then, and you pay nothing. Say “stop” and it stops, and unused months are refunded. Betsy is a computer voice and says so on every call, before she asks a question. What Betsy is has the rest.

Who else calls every day?

After Betsy, these are in no particular order.

ElderVoice

A computer voice named Evelyn phones at a time the family sets. $49 a month for daily calls; $25 for three calls a week; $99 for daily calls she can also phone into. It’s for a family that wants a computer voice on a schedule it sets.

Senior Call

A computer voice phones at a chosen morning or evening hour for a short spoken check-in. $9.99 a month or $99 a year. It’s for a short hello at a fixed hour.

Iamfine

A recorded prompt calls once or twice a day, and she presses 1. $14.99 a month or $120 a year. It’s for a family that wants a keypress each day.

ToneOfCare

A person phones at the same time each day for a conversation. $119 a month for one call a day. It’s for a family that wants a person on the line.

CareCheckers

Live representatives in the US phone on a set schedule. $29.95 a month for one call a day, Monday to Friday, or $49.95 with weekends. It’s for a family choosing which days a live caller phones.

Maryland Senior Call Check and Social Connections

A state program of daily automated calls or texts, with an optional weekly live call, at no cost. It’s for Maryland residents 60 and older: 1-866-502-0560. In other states, the Eldercare Locator, 1-800-677-1116, connects you to local services, and our list by state has more.

How do they line up?

How do you start?

You sign up in about three minutes, then you send Mom the number from your own phone, with words we give you. A card comes in the mail, addressed to her, from you. She calls Betsy when she’s ready. Or Betsy calls her, once you confirm she’s okay with it and tell her to expect the call. Nobody gets a cold call. See how it starts.

If her phone has a cord, see the best check-in calls for a landline. If you’re thinking about your father, see the best ways to check on Dad. If you already have one service in mind, try ElderVoice alternatives or the compare page.

How we judged

We make Betsy, so she is first here. Other services’ facts are from their own sites, checked November 5, 2026. A landline rules out anything built on apps, texts or Wi-Fi, so we looked at calls that ring that phone, and judged them on five things:

• A real conversation. She lifts the receiver and someone asks about her life.
• Memory from call to call. Today’s call picks up where yesterday’s stopped.
• The same voice from the same number. One number to write on the pad by the phone, once.
• Any phone, with nothing to install. No new phone and nothing to plug in.
• What stays private. She can say what she likes, and the family hears what it needs to hear.

Why is Betsy first on a landline?

Because all Mom has to do is lift the receiver. Every day, at the hour she picks, between 9 a.m. and 8 p.m. her local time, that phone rings and Betsy is on the line for about ten minutes. There is no key to press. Betsy asks about her life, talks about a third of the time, and leaves the rest to Mom.

The name shows up too. The caller-ID box, if she has one, reads BETSY, and nobody has to save a contact. If there is no box, the phone just rings, as it always has. It’s the same voice from the same local number, forever, and Betsy tells her that a different number saying it’s Betsy isn’t.

Betsy remembers every conversation, so each call starts where the last one ended. Mom can dial the same number from the same phone any time, and Betsy knows who it is. There is nothing to install, charge or learn, and the family’s part happens on your phone, not hers.

She lifts the receiver. That is the whole setup.

A call sounds like this.

Betsy: Margaret, it’s Betsy, the one who isn’t a person. You were telling me about the cord on that kitchen phone.

Margaret: Twenty-five feet. I could reach the stove, the sink and the back door.

Betsy: Who were you talking to?

Margaret: My sister, every night, while the potatoes boiled.

Betsy: And the potatoes?

Margaret: Burned, about once a week. Harold thought that was how they came.

Betsy: Same time tomorrow?

Margaret: Same time tomorrow.

What do you hear, when her only phone has a cord?

Your phone gets what hers can’t. On Sunday, one text, one line and one story: “Margaret had a good week. Ask her about the cord on the kitchen phone.” If she tells Betsy about a fall, an illness or someone after her money, you hear the same day, in her own words, and Betsy tells her when she does. Everything else stays hers, because that is why she keeps talking.

The price is $2 a day, billed $60 a month. No device, no setup fee, no contract, no tiers. Your card goes on file before her first call, and nothing is charged until day eight. If the first week doesn’t make Mom’s day, call and say stop before then, and you pay nothing. Say “stop” and it stops, and unused months are refunded. Betsy is a computer voice, says so on every call, and never asks for money. What Betsy is has the rest.

How do you tell her, when a text can’t reach that phone?

Say it out loud, on the phone or at her table.

You say: Mom, I signed you up for something called Betsy. She’ll call you every day if you want her to. Write this number on the pad by the phone. Call her when you’re ready. She knows you’re coming.

A card follows in the mail, addressed to her, from you, with your note on it. If you’d rather, Betsy calls her: you confirm she’s okay with it, and you tell her to expect the call. Nobody gets a cold call. Tell Mom has the rest of the words.

What else works on a landline?

After Betsy, these are in no particular order. Each says on its own site that it rings a landline or a home phone.

• ElderVoice. A computer voice named Evelyn phones at a time the family sets. $49 a month for daily calls. It’s for a family that wants a computer voice on a schedule it sets.
• Iamfine. A recorded call once or twice a day; she presses 1, so the phone needs a keypad. $14.99 a month or $120 a year. It’s for a daily keypress.
• CARE (Call Reassurance). A recorded greeting on the days and times you set; she presses 1 on a keypad phone. $19.95 for one month, down to $14.95 a month on a 12-month prepay. It’s for a family that wants to record the greeting itself.
• ToneOfCare. A person phones at the same time each day. $119 a month for one call a day. It’s for a family that wants a person on that phone.
• Maryland Senior Call Check and Social Connections. A state program of daily automated calls or texts, on a landline or cell phone, at no cost. It’s for Maryland residents 60 and older: 1-866-502-0560. In other states, the Eldercare Locator, 1-800-677-1116, connects you to local services, and our list by state has more.
• Community Phone. A home phone service on a cellular base that works with almost any corded or cordless phone. Its family plan, $89 a month plus a one-time $99 base, lets family set up automated check-in calls. It’s for a house that wants to keep its corded phone.

How do they line up?

If you’re still choosing, see Betsy for a mother who only has a landline and does Betsy work on a landline, or see how it starts. For other lists, try the best services that call your mother every day and the best ways to check on Dad without a camera.

The short version

• Betsy is the last thing you do before you leave: put your phone on the table and call her together.
• Hold no meeting at the table. Ask for the recipe instead.
• In the fridge, look for something she cooked, not for old milk.
• Text your brother from the driveway, and write down what you saw, with dates.
• On Tuesday, call her doctor’s office and say what you saw. They can always listen.

What if you really did see something?

You flew in and something was off. She let you carve. She stopped twice in a recipe she has made since 1966. You aren’t the only one. A January 2024 survey by the home care company Home Instead found that one out of five Americans saw a noticeable decline in an older relative while together over the holidays. The company also reports that one out of three would wait to see if things got worse. Waiting feels kind. It also tends to mean next Thanksgiving. Here is the week instead, from the table to Tuesday.

What can each thing mean, and what do you do this week?

One odd moment is just a moment. The National Institute on Aging (2026) says occasionally misplacing things or forgetting to pay a bill is usually mild forgetfulness. What you want to catch is the thing that repeats.

The National Institute on Aging’s list of reasons to talk with a doctor includes asking the same questions over and over, having trouble following recipes or directions, and not taking care of yourself. The Aging Life Care Association (2022) adds dented cars, unopened mail and furniture placed “to hold onto for balance.”

What do you say at the table?

Nothing big. She has cooked for two days, everyone is there, and a table of grown children who’ve been talking is the fastest way to make her defend herself. Ask for something you want anyway.

You say: Mom, how do you do the stuffing? Walk me through it. I want to write it down.

You’ll learn a lot: which steps come easily, which one makes her stop and think, whether she laughs at you for asking. It isn’t a test, because you really do want the recipe. And she stays what she has always been at this table, the one who knows.

The checklist for the kitchen, the hall and the driveway

• The fridge. Everyone has old mustard. Look for something she cooked this week.
• The calendar on the fridge. Two blank weeks tell you who she sees.
• The pill bottles. Compare the fill date with how full they are.
• The mail. Piles unopened, and anything from a sweepstakes or a charity you’ve never heard of.
• The hall. Furniture placed to hold on to, and rugs kicked back from the door.
• The car. New scrapes on the corners.
• Her. Weight, clothes, a bruise she can’t explain.
• Your notes. Three things, with dates, written down tonight.

What do you say over the dishes?

Start with the house, and get to her later. “The railing’s loose, can I get someone out?” is a sentence she can say yes to. Then say the real thing once, and make it about you. Dr. Laura Mosqueda of UC Irvine said in 2008 that older adults may be reluctant to admit to a bad situation, fearing they could “prematurely or inappropriately lose their autonomy.” So say that part first.

You say: Nobody’s moving you anywhere. I just hate that I only find out how you are on holidays. I’d like to fix that part.

Three sentences to leave out: “We’ve all been talking.” “Have you thought about somewhere smaller?” “You keep repeating yourself.” If she’s easy about it, the three questions the CDC gives doctors work over a dish towel: have you fallen this past year, do you ever feel unsteady, do you worry about falling? And if she says she’s fine, leave the door open. The Aging Life Care Association suggests a “let’s think about it” tone.

What do you text your brother?

From the driveway, before you lose your nerve.

Your text: Did you see what I saw? The stuffing, the chair in the hall, the mail. Can you talk Sunday at seven? Bring what you noticed. No plans yet.

“No plans yet” is what makes him pick up. A brother who hears a decision starts arguing with it. When you do talk, split up the jobs with the weekly system, and start the daily part with how to check on an older parent.

What do you do on Tuesday?

Call her doctor’s office. They don’t have to tell you anything for this to work. The US Department of Health and Human Services says federal privacy rules don’t stop a doctor from listening to family members with concerns. The office may not be able to say much back without her permission, so ask her for that too.

You say: I’m Margaret Ellis’s daughter. I was with her for Thanksgiving and I noticed a few things. I’m not asking you to tell me anything. Can I tell you what I saw, so the doctor has it before her next visit?

Then ask when that visit is. Medicare Part B covers a yearly “Wellness” visit once every 12 months; she pays nothing if the doctor accepts assignment, though other costs may apply. It includes a review of her prescriptions and a look for signs of memory trouble. Medicare says specific concerns belong in a separate appointment, so ask for one. The National Institute on Aging suggests offering to make it, give her a ride or go with her. Go with her.

One exception. Sudden confusion or trouble speaking isn’t a Tuesday call. The CDC says to call 911 right away.

What does this look like for one family?

Picture one family. Margaret is 82, lives alone in Cedar Rapids and has made the same stuffing since 1966. This year she stops twice to ask how much sage. The fridge has three cartons of eggs and not much else, and a kitchen chair has moved to the hallway. At the table she’s funny and sharp. On Friday her daughter Sarah asks for the recipe and writes it down. On Saturday, before her flight, Sarah puts her phone on the table and they call Betsy together.

A call sounds like this.

Betsy: Hi, this is Betsy. Is this Margaret?

Margaret: It is. Sarah’s here. She has you on the table.

Betsy: Oh good. Two things, then I want to hear about you. First: I’m not a person. I’m a voice made by a computer, and Sarah set me up because she wanted somebody to call you every single day. I never forget a word you tell me. I keep a recording of our calls, so I can remember what you tell me. Is that all right with you?

Margaret: I suppose it is.

Betsy: Good. Second: I will never ask you for money. Ever. If I do, hang up on me. That’s the serious part done. Sarah says you taught fourth grade for thirty-one years. What was the very first day like?

Margaret picks six o’clock. On Tuesday Sarah calls Dr. Patel’s office from Portland, and her brother drives Margaret to the appointment two weeks later. In the second week of December, Margaret tells Betsy about going down in the hallway in October. Sarah has her mother’s own words that afternoon, and the doctor has them by Friday.

Where Betsy fits

This is the Thanksgiving version of Betsy. If you’re with her, put your phone on the table and call Betsy together. Mom hears the voice with you in the room, says yes herself, and picks the hour. Tell Mom has the words. Then you fly home, and the phone keeps ringing. The Aging Life Care Association (2022) warns that after the holidays many older relatives are “left alone until the next big family event.” Betsy calls Mom every day, at the hour she picks, in the same voice, from the same number.

They talk for about ten minutes. Betsy remembers every conversation, so each call starts where the last one ended. If Mom mentions a fall, an illness or someone after her money, you hear the same day, and Betsy tells her when she does. On Sunday you get one text with one line and one story. Everything else stays hers.

She works on any phone, with nothing to install. She is a computer voice and says so on every call. She isn’t a nurse or an emergency service, and she gives no medical advice, so Tuesday’s call to the doctor stays yours. $2 a day, billed $60 a month. More on what Betsy is, and if a fall is on your mind, read medical alert or a daily call.

We make Betsy, so she comes first here. Other services’ facts are from their own sites, checked November 5, 2026.

Papa sends a paid person to the house for company, rides, errands and light housework. Maybe the hours add up, or Mom would rather not have someone new in the kitchen. If what she wants most days is a good talk, you don’t have to buy it by the hour.

Betsy (ours): what does the money buy?

A conversation every day, at the hour she picks, for about ten minutes. It’s the same voice from the same local number, forever. There is nothing to book and nobody to let in. Betsy asks about Mom’s life and remembers every conversation, so each call starts where the last one ended. Mom can call her any time at that number, and Betsy knows who it is. Betsy is a computer voice, says so on every call, and never asks for money. What Betsy is has the rest.

A month of Betsy costs what two hours of Papa’s visits cost.

A call sounds like this.

Betsy: Hi Angela, it’s Betsy, the one who isn’t a person. You never told me what you said when he proposed on that bus.

Angela: I said, this is my stop.

Betsy: And was it?

Angela: It was. He got off anyway and walked me home in the rain.

Betsy: Oh, that’s wonderful. Same time tomorrow?

Angela: Same time tomorrow.

What does the family hear?

One text on Sunday, one line and one story: “Angela had a good week. Ask her what she said on the bus.” If she tells Betsy about a fall, an illness or someone after her money, you hear the same day, in her own words, and Betsy tells her when she does. Everything else stays hers.

What does it cost?

$2 a day, billed $60 a month, for every day of the month. No device, no setup fee, no contract, no tiers. Your card goes on file before her first call, and nothing is charged until day eight. If the first week doesn’t make Mom’s day, call and say stop before then, and you pay nothing. Say “stop” and it stops, and unused months are refunded.

Which people call or visit?

• Papa, where you started. A paid person, a “Papa Pal,” visits in person. $30 an hour if you pay for it yourself.
• Callgivers. People phone on a subscription schedule. $80 a month for one 20-minute call a week, $120 for two 15-minute calls a week, $220 for a daily call of 5 to 10 minutes.
• ToneOfCare. A person phones at the same time each day. $119 a month for one call a day.
• CareCheckers. Live representatives in the US phone on a set schedule. $29.95 a month for one call a day, Monday to Friday, or $49.95 with weekends.

What conversation calls are there?

These are computer voices on the phone, like Betsy.

• ElderVoice. A voice named Evelyn phones at a time the family sets. $49 a month for daily calls.
• AloneAssist. A call each morning of one to three minutes. $19.99 a month, or $24.99 on its family plan.

Which press-1 calls and texts are there?

• Iamfine. A recorded call once or twice a day; she presses 1. $14.99 a month or $120 a year.
• CheckinBee. A daily text she answers. $13 a month, or $20 for up to three a day.

What public programs are there?

Where a program exists, it serves the people who live there.

• Friendship Line, California. A line from the nonprofit Institute on Aging for adults 60 and older, answered by trained team members, with outbound calls on request. 888-670-1360.
• Maryland Senior Call Check and Social Connections. Daily automated calls or texts, with an optional weekly live call, for Maryland residents 60 and older. 1-866-502-0560.
• Eldercare Locator, 1-800-677-1116. A federal public service that connects you to local services for older adults. Our list by state has more.

What about devices and pendants?

• ElliQ. A tabletop device with a screen that talks with her at home. Leased: a $249 one-time fee plus $59 a month on its monthly plan.
• Medical Guardian. A button worn around the neck or on the wrist. MG Home starting at $34.95, Guardian Flex starting at $39.95.

How do they line up?

How do you choose?

Does she get a real conversation, or a keypress?

If a good talk is the part of the visit you want to keep, look for talk. Betsy asks what she said on that bus, then waits. Mom does most of the talking, for about ten minutes a day.

Does the voice remember her?

It’s the same voice every day, and she remembers every conversation: who proposed, which bus, which knee. Mom never has to tell a story twice, unless she wants to.

Can she keep the phone she has, with nothing to wear or charge?

Yes. There is nothing to book and nothing to wear, charge or learn. Betsy rings a cell, a landline or a flip phone at the hour Mom picks, and Mom can ring her back any time.

See how it starts, set Betsy and Papa side by side, or read what Betsy costs. If you began somewhere else, try Iamfine alternatives or ElliQ alternatives.

“I’d think about her in the evening, tell myself I’d call tomorrow”

r/CaregiverSupport, March 2026

Are you letting her down?

No. The same call every single day is more than most weeks allow, and falling short of it isn’t failing anybody. The job was built wrong: one person, one hour, every day, with a shift and a kid’s fever in the way.

In 2025 a teacher of 54 wrote to Dear Abby that every evening she is expected to call her mother of 84, a few states away. Abby told her to make it once or twice a week. That gives the teacher her evenings back. It leaves her mother with five or six days to fill.

Who can take the other days?

Keep the neighbor either way, because somebody should see her now and then. Other services are on the compare page.

What is left for you?

The calls only you can make. Two or three a week, at a time you can keep, with something to say. How often should I call? goes into the number. Betsy hands you the opening line on Sunday: “Ask her about the summer she worked the Dairy Queen window in 1961.” You stop opening with “Are you eating?” and start with the Dairy Queen.

Will she feel handed off?

It is a real worry. We make Betsy, and she answers it on the first call, with your name in it: “Sarah set me up because she wanted somebody to call you every single day.” The number reaches Mom from your own phone, in your own words. She picks the hour, and she has a say: if she says “stop” on any call, it stops. What Betsy is has the whole picture, and is there a service that calls my mom every day? sets her beside the others.

We make Betsy, so she comes first here. Other services’ facts are from their own sites, checked November 5, 2026.

The pendant is in the drawer. She says it’s for old people, and she’s eighty-four. You can’t make her wear it. You can see to it that someone talks with her every day. A reply on AARP’s community forum put the wish this way.

“I do not want life alert just some one to check on me”

AARP Online Community, 2024

Betsy (ours): what does a mother who won’t wear a pendant get?

A phone call she doesn’t have to wear. Every day, at the hour she picks, Betsy calls from the same local number, in the same voice, for about ten minutes, and asks about her life. She remembers every conversation, so each call starts where the last one ended. There is nothing to wear, charge or learn, and nothing about it looks like a medical device. Mom can call her any time at that number, and Betsy knows who it is. Betsy is a computer voice and says so on every call. What Betsy is has the rest.

A call sounds like this.

Betsy: Margaret, it’s Betsy, the one who isn’t a person. Did you ever get those tomatoes in?

Margaret: Most of them. I went down on the back steps with the last basket.

Betsy: You went down. Are you hurt?

Margaret: A bruise. Sarah will bring up that necklace again.

Betsy: That’s one I pass along, so she’ll hear it today, in your words. How many tomatoes made it?

Margaret: Every one.

Nothing to wear, nothing to charge. She picks up the phone.

What does the family hear?

That stumble, the same day, in her own words, and Betsy tells her when she does. The same goes for an illness she mentions, someone after her money, or anything she asks Betsy to pass along. Everything else stays hers, and on Sunday you get one text, one line and one story.

What about an emergency?

Betsy is not an emergency service. In an emergency, Mom calls 911, or presses the button if she’ll wear one. A pendant and Betsy do different jobs, and neither gets in the other’s way.

What does it cost?

$2 a day, billed $60 a month. No device, no setup fee, no contract, no tiers. Your card goes on file before her first call, and nothing is charged until day eight. If the first week doesn’t make Mom’s day, call and say stop before then, and you pay nothing. Say “stop” and it stops, and unused months are refunded.

What conversation calls are there?

These are computer voices that ring her phone.

• ElderVoice. A voice named Evelyn phones at a time the family sets. $49 a month for daily calls.
• Senior Call. A short spoken check-in at a chosen morning or evening hour. $9.99 a month or $99 a year.

Which press-1 calls and texts are there?

• Iamfine. A recorded call once or twice a day; she presses 1. $14.99 a month or $120 a year.
• CheckinBee. A daily text she answers. $13 a month, or $20 for up to three a day.

Which people call or visit?

• ToneOfCare. A person phones at the same time each day. $119 a month for one call a day.
• CareCheckers. Live representatives in the US phone on a set schedule. $29.95 a month for one call a day, Monday to Friday, or $49.95 with weekends.

What public programs are there?

Check the state and county she lives in.

• Maryland Senior Call Check and Social Connections. Daily automated calls or texts for Maryland residents 60 and older. 1-866-502-0560.
• Chautauqua County Sheriff R.U.O.K., New York. A computer calls each day and plays a recorded message from the sheriff; she speaks to confirm. 716-753-4582.
• Eldercare Locator, 1-800-677-1116. A federal public service that connects you to local services for older adults. Our list by state has more.

What if she’d take a different device or button?

• Alexa Emergency Assist. Nothing to wear: she asks an Echo device or the Alexa app for help, and an agent answers. $5.99 a month as a Prime member, or $59.00 a year.
• Lifeline. A help button worn as a pendant or wristband. HomeSafe starting at $34.95 a month, On the Go starting at $39.95 a month.
• Medical Guardian. A button worn around the neck or on the wrist. MG Home starting at $34.95, Guardian Flex starting at $39.95.
• Bay Alarm Medical. A help button on a pendant or wristband, with a home console. $27.95 a month on a landline, $34.95 on cellular.
• Life Alert. A pendant, wristband or wall-mounted button. Its own pages give no price and ask you to call for a quote.

How do they line up?

How do you choose?

Does she get a real conversation, or a button?

A button waits for the day something goes wrong. Betsy calls on an ordinary Tuesday and asks about the tomatoes, and a stumble comes out in the middle of the story.

Does the voice remember her?

Betsy does. She knows about the back steps, Harold’s name and which knee, and Mom never has to explain any of it twice.

Can she keep the phone she has, with nothing to wear or charge?

Yes, and that is the point for a mother who took the pendant off. She doesn’t have to wear anything or learn anything. She picks up the phone she already has: a cell, a landline or a flip phone.

See how it starts, read medical alert or a daily call, or set Betsy and medical alerts side by side. If you began somewhere else, try ElliQ alternatives or Iamfine alternatives.

The short version

• Betsy’s job is every ordinary day: a real conversation at the hour she picks, that starts where yesterday’s ended.
• A pendant’s job is one bad minute: she presses, and a staffed center answers.
• When she tells Betsy about the stumble she’d never mention to you, you hear it the same day.
• So ask which job comes first, and leave “which is better” out of it.
• If a pendant is part of the plan, test it from the bathroom floor on day one.

What does each one do?

What is Betsy’s job?

Every day that isn’t an emergency, which is nearly all of them. One member put the wish plainly on AARP’s community forum.

“I do not want life alert just some one to check on me”

AARP Online Community, 2024

The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (2026) says more than one out of four older people falls each year, and “less than half tell their doctor.” So a fall can go unreported. It can also come out sideways, in the middle of a story, when somebody is listening and has all the time in the world.

A call sounds like this.

Betsy: Margaret, it’s Betsy. Did you get those boxes over to the rummage sale?

Margaret: One of them. I missed the last step carrying it and sat down hard in the driveway.

Betsy: Sat down hard. You fell?

Margaret: Oh, I suppose I did. It was only the driveway.

Betsy: That’s one I pass along to Sarah, you know that. What was in the box?

Margaret: Harold’s bowling trophies. Eleven of them, and not one of them broke.

That afternoon, Sarah has her mother’s own words.

What a medical alert is

A button on a cord or a wristband. One press reaches a response center, where a trained agent can send help and call the family. Entry prices we read on November 5, 2026: Bay Alarm Medical from $27.95 a month, Lifeline and Medical Guardian from $34.95. Its job is the emergency. Betsy isn’t an emergency service, and a pendant isn’t a conversation.

How do you make sure a pendant gets used?

If a pendant is in the plan, this is the part to get right. A study in The BMJ (2008) followed 110 people over 90, mostly around Cambridge, England, for a year. 82% of their falls happened when they were alone. Among people living in the community who fell alone and couldn’t get up, the alarm went unused in 78% of those falls, 28 of 36. So getting it pressed is the whole job. One woman who fell by her gate told the researchers, “I was wearing my alarm but I didn’t think it would work.” Show her that it does, from everywhere she goes.

Pick Betsy if…

• You want somebody to ask about her life every day, and remember the answer.
• She has taken off every device anyone ever gave her. Betsy is a phone call, with nothing to wear, charge or lose.
• You want to hear about the fall she’d keep from you, the same day, in her own words.
• Someone has been calling about her money, and she needs somebody to tell.
• She has a phone she already picks up: a cell, a landline or a flip phone.

Why would a family want both?

Because the bad minute and the ordinary day are different problems. The CDC’s three questions for doctors are a good test of the first: has she fallen in the past year, does she feel unsteady when standing or walking, does she worry about falling? A yes to any of them is worth telling her doctor. Lifeline, which sells them, calls a button “on-demand and reactive” and says “many families use both.” Neither gets in the other’s way. Betsy rings the phone she already has, and the pendant stays on its cord.

A pendant waits to be pressed. Betsy calls every day.

What does this look like for two families?

Picture two mothers.

Joan, 79, walks two miles a day and hasn’t fallen. She hung up on a man about her Medicare twice last month, and a pendant would go straight in a drawer. Her son sets up Betsy at ten. In the third week Joan tells Betsy the man called again, this time about her bank, and her son has her own words that afternoon. They’ll talk about a button if she ever starts to feel unsteady.

Ruth, 88, has fallen twice and uses a walker. Her daughter buys a pendant with a fall sensor, and they test it together from the bathroom floor. Ruth says it’s ugly and wears it anyway. Betsy calls at four, when the afternoon gets long. In the second week Ruth mentions she slid off the edge of the bed and pressed nothing, because she wasn’t hurt. Her daughter hears that day, and tells the doctor.

The pendant checklist

• Ask about fees: activation, programming, cancellation. Get the answer in writing.
• Ask who picks up when she presses, and who they call first.
• Ask whether it needs a landline or runs on cellular, and check the signal in her house.
• Ask whether she can wear it in the shower. Bathrooms are where she’ll want it.
• Ask what a fall sensor costs and what it can miss. Bay Alarm Medical lists it from $10.00 a month. Lifeline says in its own words that it can miss a fall, and that she should press the button if she can.
• On day one, press it from the bathroom floor, the far end of the yard and the mailbox.
• Have her wear it from the first morning, with her glasses, so it never becomes the thing for emergencies.
• Test it every month, the way the company tells you to.
• Ask her doctor about a physical therapist who can teach her to get up from the floor. The BMJ authors call for exactly that.

Where Betsy fits

Betsy’s job is the daily conversation, and she does it every day. She calls Mom at the hour Mom picks, from the same local number, in the same voice, and talks with her for about ten minutes. She remembers every conversation, so each call starts where the last one ended, and Mom can call her any time. There is nothing to wear, charge or lose, and any phone will do: a cell, a landline or a flip phone.

If Mom mentions a fall, an injury or an illness, somebody after her money, or anything she wants passed along, you hear the same day, and Betsy tells her when she does. Everything else stays hers, and on Sunday you get one text with one line and one story. Betsy never asks for money, always calls from the same number, and stops when Mom says stop.

She is a computer voice and says so on every call. She isn’t a nurse or an emergency service, and she gives no medical advice; in an emergency, Mom calls 911 or presses the button. $2 a day, billed $60 a month. See how it starts, check on Mom without a camera, or read the first two weeks home after a hospital stay.

The short version

• Betsy takes the daily call. You keep the long one on Saturday.
• Give every job one name. “We’ll all keep an eye on her” means nobody does.
• Someone local sees her every week, and that person needs a call from you too.
• On Tuesday, call the neighbor, not Mom.
• Far away is where the paper gets done: bills, insurance, refills, appointments.

Who counts as a long-distance caregiver?

If you live an hour or more from her, you do. That is the National Institute on Aging’s line: “an hour or more away.” AARP’s 2025 national study, as summarized by the American Society on Aging, counts 63 million Americans looking after a family member, and 10% of them live that far. So the person on the 6 a.m. flight with a folder of insurance letters has company. What she usually doesn’t have is a system. Here is one.

What does the week look like?

Seven days, one page. It comes to about an hour of your week, plus the long call you wanted to make anyway.

How to check on an older parent has the all-clear in more detail, and what to do on the day it doesn’t come.

Why do family plans fall apart?

Usually the first week somebody travels, because the plan lives in that person’s head. Write it down and most of the trouble goes. The National Institute on Aging (2026) suggests a meeting or conference call with her and everyone involved, and says it goes best “when there is not an emergency.” So hold it on an ordinary Sunday, with Mom on the line. It’s her life you’re dividing up, and she may want to keep more of it than you think. Then put one name on every line of the table, and a second in pencil for the week that person is away.

Why call the neighbor on Tuesday?

Mom will tell you she’s fine. The neighbor saw the car. Pick the one person who actually sees her: the woman next door, her hairdresser, whoever sits beside her at church. Call every week, whether or not anything is wrong, so that the call never sounds like an alarm.

You say: Hi, Mrs. Ortiz, it’s Mark, Helen’s son. I’m not asking you to do anything. Did you see her this week? How was she walking? Is there anything you’ve wondered whether to tell me?

The last question is the one that works. People next door hold things back, because they don’t want to interfere. You’ve just told them they won’t be.

Who should do which job?

Whoever is good at it, which is not always whoever feels guiltiest. The National Institute on Aging’s list of questions is a good place to start, and most of these jobs can be done from an airport.

Who looks after the person nearby?

Whoever lives closest does the driving, and hears about it when the plan goes wrong. The National Institute on Aging’s advice to everyone else is short: ask what would be most helpful, and stay in regular touch.

“Just listening may not sound like much, but it can mean a lot.”

National Institute on Aging, What Is Long-Distance Caregiving?

So make a second call on Tuesday, right after the neighbor. Ask what you can take off that person’s list, and then take it. And book one week a year, in ink, when you fly in and they go somewhere without you.

How do you make a short visit count?

Talk before you book. Ask Mom what she’d like to do, and ask whoever is local what they need. Then go with three things and no more: one job only you can do, one look around the fridge, the mail and the stairs, and one thing with no purpose at all. The National Institute on Aging’s list runs to “watching a movie, playing a game, enjoying music, or taking a drive.” Take the drive. People say things in a car that they won’t say across a table.

What does one week look like?

Picture one family. Helen is 84 and lives alone in Dayton. Her son Mark is in Seattle. Her daughter Dana is forty minutes away and teaches school. Helen texts Dana one word when she gets up. Betsy calls her at ten.

• Monday. Mark texts: “Eye doctor Thursday at two. Dana driving?” Dana: “Yes.”
• Tuesday. Mark calls Mrs. Ortiz next door. Helen’s car hasn’t moved in nine days.
• Wednesday. Mark pays the gas bill. That afternoon he has Helen’s own words: she told Betsy a man keeps phoning about her Medicare number. Mark calls her, and they agree she’ll hang up on him.
• Thursday. Dana drives her to the eye doctor.
• Saturday. Mark calls for an hour and hears all about the church rummage sale. He doesn’t mention the car.
• Sunday. Dana brings lunch, looks in the fridge and tries the car. Dead battery. Her text: “Saw her. Eating. Battery, fixed Tuesday.” Then the Sunday text from Betsy: “Helen had a good week. Ask her about the 1958 county fair.”

The one-page checklist

• One name beside every job, and a second in pencil
• Her hour for the daily conversation
• The all-clear: who expects it, and how
• The person who sees her each week, and a backup
• A second local name with a key
• The Tuesday call, repeating on your calendar
• A shared list of numbers: doctor, pharmacy, neighbor, insurer
• A shared calendar for appointments and rides
• Her written permission for you to talk with her doctor’s office
• One week a year when the person nearby gets a break, booked now
• A date three months out to ask everyone, Mom first: is this still working?

Where Betsy fits

Betsy is the first line of the table, and the job a family calendar has the hardest time keeping. She calls Mom every day at the hour Mom picks, between 9 a.m. and 8 p.m. her local time, from the same local number, in the same voice. Your time zone doesn’t come into it. She talks with her for about ten minutes, remembers every conversation, and starts each call where the last one ended. Mom can call her any time.

If Mom mentions a fall, an illness or someone after her money, you hear the same day, wherever you are. On Sunday you get one text with one line and one story, so Saturday’s long call has somewhere to start. Everything else stays hers.

She works on any phone, with nothing to install, so nobody has to fly in to set her up. She is a computer voice and says so on every call. She isn’t a nurse or an emergency service, and she gives no medical advice. $2 a day, billed $60 a month; say “stop” and it stops. The whole picture is on what Betsy is, and if a hospital stay comes first, start with the first two weeks home.

We make Betsy. If you are asking, you have probably tried being the daily call yourself. It holds for a month, and then a Tuesday gets away from you. You already know what a call does.

“It makes her whole week every time.”

A grandchild who calls most days, on r/CaregiverSupport, September 2026

What does the call sound like?

Betsy asks about Mom’s life, then listens. She talks about a third of the time; the rest is Mom’s. Every call starts where the last one stopped, so Mom never has to tell a story twice.

A call sounds like this.

Betsy: Hi Margaret, it’s Betsy, the one who isn’t a person. Did the plumber ever show?

Margaret: Thursday. Two hours late, and he walked mud across my kitchen.

Betsy: Did you say anything?

Margaret: I handed him the mop.

Betsy: Oh, that’s wonderful. Same time tomorrow?

Margaret: Same time tomorrow.

Pew Research Center reported in 2019 that adults 60 and older who live alone spend about 10 and a half hours alone each day. Ten minutes of that is the plumber and the mop.

What do you hear?

On Sunday, one text with one line and one story: “Margaret had a good week. Ask her about the summer she worked the Dairy Queen window in 1961.” If Mom mentions a fall, an injury or an illness, someone after her money, or anything she wants passed along, you hear the same day, and Betsy tells her when she does. Everything else stays hers, which is why she keeps talking.

What other daily check-in services for seniors are there?

Two kinds come up first. Here they are beside Betsy. The compare page has every other service, with prices.

Betsy and a press-1 call and Betsy and a volunteer caller each have a page.

How does it start?

You sign up, then you send Mom the number from your own phone, with words we give you. She calls Betsy when she’s ready. Or Betsy calls her, once you confirm she’s okay with it and tell her to expect the call. Nobody gets a cold call. Betsy never asks for money, always calls from the same number, and stops when Mom says stop. What Betsy is has every other answer.

Where you live doesn’t come into it. Where Mom lives only sets the clock. Everything Betsy does, and everything she promises, is the same from one state to the next.

The short version

• Betsy calls anywhere in the United States, in English.
• The same voice, from the same local number, forever.
• Every day, at the hour she picks, for about ten minutes.
• Any phone: cell, landline or flip phone. Nothing to install, charge or learn.
• She can call Betsy any time at the same number, and Betsy knows who it is.

Whose clock does Betsy use?

Mom’s. If she is in Phoenix and you are in Boston, nine in the morning means nine in Phoenix, and you never do the arithmetic. She picks the hour, somewhere between 9 a.m. and 8 p.m. her time, and Betsy asks what suits her at the end of the first call. Betsy calls a phone, not a place. If Mom spends the winter in Florida with her cell phone, Betsy reaches her there, and she can pick a new hour on any call.

Does anything change from state to state?

Not on Betsy’s side. She says what she is on every call, before she asks a question, wherever Mom lives. On the first call she asks, “I keep a recording of our calls, so I can remember what you tell me. Is that all right with you?” and she keeps Mom’s answer. Some states need a person’s yes before a call is recorded, which is what all-party consent means. Betsy asks every mother the same plain question in every state. Does Betsy record the calls? has the wording.

The three promises don’t change at the state line either. Betsy never asks for money. She always calls from the same number. She stops when Mom says stop.

What if I’m in a different state from Mom?

Nothing changes for her, and very little for you. You sign up, and you send Mom the number from your own phone, with words we give you. After that you hear what any family hears: one text on Sunday, and word the same day if Mom mentions a fall, an illness or someone after her money. A family spread across the country has more, Does Betsy work on a landline? settles the phone question, and what Betsy is has the whole picture.

What does she actually say?

Her own name comes first, then yours, then the word “computer.” A call sounds like this.

Betsy: Hi, this is Betsy. Is this Margaret?

Margaret: It is.

Betsy: Oh good. Sarah said you might call. Two things, then I want to hear about you. First: I’m not a person. I’m a voice made by a computer, and Sarah set me up because she wanted somebody to call you every single day. The nice thing about being a computer is I’ve got all the time in the world, I’m never in a hurry, and I never forget a word you tell me.

Listen to the order. Your name arrives before the word “computer,” and “Sarah set me up” answers the question a mother may not say out loud: have I been put to the side? Betsy comes from you. She doesn’t replace you.

What if Mom asks her straight out?

She gets a straight answer, on any call.

Margaret: Are you a robot?

Betsy: Sort of. No body, no face, just a voice and a very good memory, and the only thing I’m for is talking with you.

After the first day the reminder gets shorter: “Margaret, it’s Betsy, the one who isn’t a person.” It never disappears.

Does a real person ever hear the calls?

Mom’s conversation is with Betsy. Betsy’s team has access to recordings to keep the service running well, and paying doesn’t let anyone in the family hear them. What reaches the family is three things and one line on Sunday. Who hears Mom’s calls has the full list, does Mom have to agree covers how she comes to say yes, and what Betsy is has everything else.

Nothing to buy, wear, charge or learn.

What does Betsy do?

She asks about Mom’s life and remembers the answers. The same voice calls from the same local number at the same hour, and each call starts where the last one ended, so Betsy knows which knee, and who Harold was. All Mom has to do is answer the phone, which she has done her whole life. What Betsy is has a whole call, start to finish.

What happens when Mom mentions a fall?

The family hears the same day. Think of the stumble she would never ring you about: the back steps, mentioned on Tuesday in the middle of a story about the tomatoes. Betsy passes it on, she tells Mom she’s doing it, and what reaches you is Mom’s own words. What Betsy does if Mom mentions a fall has more, and what Betsy tells the family has the rest of the list.

What should Mom do in an emergency?

Call 911. Betsy is not a nurse or an emergency service, and she doesn’t give medical advice. When Mom mentions a fall or an illness on a call, the family hears the same day. She is on the phone for about ten minutes, and the other twenty-three hours and fifty minutes are Mom’s own, with nothing to wear and nobody watching. If you are weighing Betsy against other services, the compare page sets them side by side.

We make Betsy, so she comes first here. Other services’ facts are from their own sites, checked November 5, 2026.

Iamfine is a recorded call, once or twice a day, and Mom presses 1. If you’d like that moment in her day to hold more than a key, here is what else there is.

Betsy (ours): what takes the place of the keypress?

A conversation. Every day at the hour she picks, between 9 a.m. and 8 p.m. her local time, the same voice calls from the same local number and asks about her life. Betsy talks about a third of the time, and the rest is Mom’s. She remembers every conversation, so tomorrow’s call starts where today’s stopped and Mom never tells a story twice, unless she wants to. Mom can call her any time at that number, too. Betsy is a computer voice, says so on every call, and never asks for money. More on what Betsy is.

A call sounds like this.

Betsy: Rosa, it’s Betsy, the one who isn’t a person. You taught half of Tucson to swim. Who sank?

Rosa: The mayor’s boy. Straight to the bottom with his goggles on.

Betsy: Wait, back up. What did you do?

Rosa: Hauled him out by the trunks. His mother tipped me a dollar.

Betsy: A whole dollar. Same time tomorrow?

Rosa: Same time tomorrow.

All she has to do is answer the phone and talk.

What does the family hear?

One text on Sunday, one line and one story: “Rosa had a good week. Ask her who sank.” It gives you something to ask her. If she tells Betsy about a fall, an illness or someone after her money, you hear the same day, in her own words, and Betsy tells her when she does. Everything else stays hers.

What does it cost?

$2 a day, billed $60 a month, and the call, the memory and the Sunday text are all inside it. No device, no setup fee, no contract, no tiers. Your card goes on file before her first call, and nothing is charged until day eight. If the first week doesn’t make Mom’s day, call and say stop before then, and you pay nothing. Say “stop” and it stops, and unused months are refunded.

Which other press-1 calls and texts are there?

These ask her for a key or a reply.

• Iamfine, where you started. A recorded call once or twice a day; she presses 1. $14.99 a month or $120 a year.
• ConfirmOk. An automated call at her scheduled time; she presses 1 and #. $14.99 a month or $149 a year.
• CARE (Call Reassurance). A recorded greeting on the days and times you set; she presses 1. $19.95 for one month, down to $14.95 a month on a 12-month prepay.
• WellCheck Now. A text or phone call at the same time every day or every other day; she replies. $19.95 a month.
• CheckinBee. A daily text she answers. $13 a month, or $20 for up to three a day.

What conversation calls are there?

Each of these is a computer voice that talks.

• ElderVoice. A voice named Evelyn phones at a time the family sets. $49 a month for daily calls.
• Senior Call. A short spoken check-in at a chosen morning or evening hour. $9.99 a month or $99 a year.
• AloneAssist. A call each morning of one to three minutes. $19.99 a month, or $24.99 on its family plan.

Which people call or visit?

• CareCheckers. Live representatives in the US phone on a set schedule. $29.95 a month for one call a day, Monday to Friday, or $49.95 with weekends.
• Callgivers. People phone on a subscription schedule. $80 a month for one 20-minute call a week, $220 for a daily call of 5 to 10 minutes.

What public programs are there?

A few states and sheriffs run them for their own residents.

• Maryland Senior Call Check and Social Connections. Daily automated calls or texts, at no cost to Maryland residents 60 and older. 1-866-502-0560.
• Chautauqua County Sheriff R.U.O.K., New York. A computer calls each day and plays a recorded message from the sheriff; she speaks to confirm. At no cost to county residents. 716-753-4582.
• Eldercare Locator, 1-800-677-1116. A federal public service that connects you to local services for older adults. Our list by state has more.

What about devices and pendants?

• Lifeline. A help button on a pendant or wristband. Starting at $34.95 a month.
• Alexa Emergency Assist. She asks an Echo device or the Alexa app for help, and an agent answers. $5.99 a month as a Prime member, or $59.00 a year.

How do they line up?

How do you choose?

Does she get a real conversation, or a keypress?

That’s the question you came with. A keypress is over when the key goes down. A call with Betsy runs about ten minutes, and Mom does most of the talking.

Does the voice remember her?

A keypress leaves no story to remember. Betsy keeps every one: the mayor’s boy, the goggles, the dollar. Next week she asks what became of him.

Can she keep the phone she has, with nothing to wear or charge?

Yes, and she doesn’t need the keypad either. Betsy calls a cell, a landline or a flip phone. There is nothing to install, charge or learn. She picks up and talks.

See how it starts, set Betsy and Iamfine side by side, or read how Betsy differs from a press-1 call. If you began somewhere else, try ElderVoice alternatives or Papa alternatives.

Telling her is the whole job, and it is the hard part. So the screen after you sign up gives you the words, and this page gives them to you early. There are three ways to do it. None of them is a surprise, because a surprise is exactly how a scam arrives, and Betsy never calls cold.

Script one: she calls Betsy when she’s ready

This is the default, and the one we recommend, because it is Mom who picks up the phone, chooses the hour, and decides whether Betsy calls tomorrow. Send this from your own phone, with the number we give you:

Your text: Mom, I signed you up for something called Betsy. She’ll call you every day if you want her to. Save this number as Betsy: (the number on your Tell Mom screen). Call her when you’re ready. She knows you’re coming.

Or call her and say the same thing out loud. If she asks what Betsy is, the plain answer works: “She’s a voice made by a computer, and she’s good company. She’ll ask you about the drive to Reno and she’ll remember the answer. Try her once.”

Script two: Betsy calls her, after you confirm

For the mother who won’t dial, and the daughter who can’t bear to wait. You confirm that Mom is okay with it and tell her to expect the call, and we keep a record of who said so and when. Your note changes by one line:

Your text: Mom, I signed you up for something called Betsy. Betsy will call you Thursday at ten from this number. Save it as Betsy: (the number on your Tell Mom screen). Pick up and say hello.

Betsy then calls at the time you picked, says what she is in the first ninety seconds like any other first call, and asks whether she may call again tomorrow. If Mom says no, that is the end of it.

Script three: together, on speaker

If you’re with her, put your phone on the table and call Betsy together. Mom hears the voice with you in the room, says yes herself, and picks the hour. This is the Thanksgiving version. Say something like:

You say: I found something I think you’ll like. It’s a voice that calls every day and remembers everything you tell her. Let’s call her now and you can decide.

Then let Betsy do the talking. She introduces herself, says she isn’t a person, promises never to ask for money, and asks Mom about her life. You’ll know in two minutes.

Why the first word comes from you and never from Betsy

The number reaches Mom from the one person she trusts, which is the opposite of how a scam arrives. Betsy calls someone who said yes herself, or someone whose child confirmed she’s okay with it and told her to expect the call. That rule is there for Mom, and for the first call, because the first ninety seconds are Betsy saying what she is, and that lands very differently when Mom was expecting her.

Why she saves the number

So her screen says Betsy. Cell carriers don’t show a caller’s name, so the saved contact does that, and it also gets Betsy past an iPhone set to silence unknown callers. Your text asks her to save it, and Betsy asks once more at the end of the first call. Landlines are easier: the caller-ID box reads BETSY. Betsy always calls from that same number. A different number saying it’s Betsy isn’t, and Betsy tells Mom so herself.

What to say if she says no

Nothing. Let it sit. Betsy never calls cold, so a no means no calls, and if she never has a first call, you pay nothing. If it’s the idea she’s refusing and not the voice, try script three the next time you visit and let her hear Betsy for herself. If she tries it and says stop on any call, the calls stop and unused months come back to you. There is no retention script and no “are you sure.”

What happens on the first call

Whoever dialed, the first ninety seconds are the same. Betsy says her name, says your name, and says what she is: a voice made by a computer, set up because you wanted somebody to call Mom every single day. She says she will never ask for money. She asks about keeping the calls: “I keep a recording of our calls, so I can remember what you tell me. Is that all right with you?” If Mom says no, Betsy keeps only her name, her number and a line about the call, as what Betsy keeps explains. Then she asks about Mom’s life, and the serious part is over. At the end she asks what time suits tomorrow. A fuller account is on what Betsy is, and the question of consent is on does Mom have to agree.

The short version

• Betsy takes the daily conversation: the same voice at the hour she picks, and she remembers yesterday.
• Ask about lunch, not her health. “Fine” is the answer to “how are you” in every family.
• Name one person who expects to hear from her every morning, and one neighbor with a key.
• Put someone in the house once a week, and give that person three things to look at.
• Decide now what you’ll do on the day she doesn’t pick up for you, and tape it to your own fridge.

Is she all right today, and who would know?

Type “is my mother okay living alone” into a search box and you get lists of warning signs, as if the question were whether she should move. That isn’t what you asked. You asked whether she is all right today, and who would know if she weren’t. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (2026) says more than one out of four older people falls each year, and “less than half tell their doctor.” If the doctor doesn’t hear, you may not either. Pew Research Center (2019) found that people 60 and older who live alone spend “about 10 and a half hours alone each day.” Those are the hours a plan has to reach.

Why not just put in a camera?

Because a camera answers one question: is she moving? It can’t tell you she skipped lunch, that she’s dizzy on the stairs, or that a man rang twice about her Medicare. The Savvy Senior column (March 2026) notes that basic sensors and cameras “can cost under $35,” need Wi-Fi and raise privacy questions, so talk with her first. Some mothers feel managed in their own kitchen, and a mother who feels managed stops telling you things. If she agrees to one, put it in a shared room and treat it as a backstop. Never a hidden one.

Who does what?

Five jobs, each with one name beside it. If a job has two names, it has none.

The minute she can’t reach a phone is a sixth job with its own answer: see medical alert or a daily call.

How do you expect her without nagging?

“Call me if you need anything” isn’t a plan. She’d have to know she was in trouble, and be willing to bother you. So turn it around. One named person expects her every morning, and the job is small enough to last. Try two rings: she rings your phone twice when she gets up and hangs up. Nobody answers and nobody talks. Or a one-word text, or the kitchen blind going up where a neighbor can see it. What matters is that a person you can name would notice by ten o’clock if it didn’t happen.

What do you ask instead of “how are you?”

A question about her health gets one word. A question about her day gets a story, and the story has the facts in it.

• “What did you have for lunch?” tells you about food. “Are you eating?” gets a yes.
• “Did you get out today? Who did you see?” A week of nobody is worth knowing.
• “How did you sleep, and what got you up?” Up four times a night is worth telling her doctor.
• “Anybody call you about money this week?” The Federal Trade Commission (2026) says people 80 and over reported much higher losses from scams that started with a phone call than from any other kind of contact. The median amount they reported losing to fraud in 2025 was $2,000.
• “What’s on for tomorrow?” A blank tomorrow, five days running, is its own answer.

Write down the answers to the first and the fourth. Three weeks of lunches tell you more than one bad day.

What should the weekly visitor look at?

Give them a job, or they’ll have coffee and go home. Three things, on the way out.

• The fridge. Everyone has old mustard. Look for something she cooked this week.
• The mail. Piles of it unopened is one of the signs the Aging Life Care Association (2022) lists.
• The stairs and the hall. A chair that has moved to the hallway is a handrail.

The Thanksgiving conversation goes through what each of these can mean.

What do you do on the day she doesn’t pick up?

Write this before you need it, and tape it to your own fridge, not hers.

1. Wait twenty minutes and call again. She may be in the garden or the bath.
2. Try the other phone: the landline if you tried the cell, the cell if you tried the landline.
3. Call the neighbor with the key. One named person, with her number in your phone.
4. If nobody has reached her within about two hours, call the police non-emergency line for her town and ask for a welfare check. An officer goes to her door, and it’s all right to be wrong about it.
5. If you believe she is hurt, call 911, at any step.

What does this look like for one family?

Picture one family. Margaret is 82 and lives alone in Toledo. Her daughter Sarah is in Denver. Her son Paul lives forty minutes away. Margaret rings Paul’s phone twice when she gets up. Betsy calls her at ten. Sarah calls on Tuesdays and Saturdays, when she has time for the whole story. Paul comes for Sunday lunch and looks at the fridge, the mail and the stairs on his way out. Mrs. Kowalski next door has a key.

A call sounds like this.

Betsy: Margaret, it’s Betsy. Did the plumber ever show?

Margaret: Tuesday, finally. I took a tumble in the garage waiting for him, reaching for the salt.

Betsy: A tumble. Are you hurt?

Margaret: A bruise the size of a dinner plate. Sarah will fuss.

Betsy: She will. A fall is one of the things I pass along, you know that. So what did he say about the sink?

That afternoon, Sarah has her mother’s own words. She calls Paul, and on his way home he moves the salt to a lower shelf. On Sunday the text says Margaret had a good week, and to ask her about the summer she worked the Dairy Queen window.

The checklist to copy into your notes

• The daily conversation: who makes it, and at what hour
• The person who expects her every morning, and how: two rings, a text, the kitchen blind
• A backup for the days that person travels
• The neighbor with a key: name and number
• The police non-emergency number for her town
• Her doctor, her pharmacy and her medication list, on one page
• Who visits each week, which day, and the three things to look at
• The five questions, kept by your own phone
• Regular callers saved in her phone under names she knows, so the screen never says Unknown
• A date three months from now to ask: is this still working?

How do you bring it up without her feeling watched?

Tell her what you’re worried about, not what you’ve decided. “I hate that I only find out things on Sunday” lands better than “we need to keep an eye on you.” Or try: “This is for me, so I can sleep.” It makes her the one doing you a favor. Let her pick who calls and at what hour. Keep the calls about her life and not her symptoms, because nobody picks up for a daily interrogation. And if she says no to everything, start with the one thing she might enjoy: somebody who wants the whole story about the night shift.

Where Betsy fits

Betsy is the first line of that table, and it is the job she was made for. She calls Mom every day at the hour Mom picks, from the same local number, in the same voice, and talks with her for about ten minutes: the plumber, the garage, the night shift at the Jeep plant. She remembers every conversation, so Mom never has to tell a story twice. Mom can call her any time, and Betsy knows who it is.

If Mom mentions a fall, an injury or an illness, somebody after her money, or anything she wants passed along, you hear the same day, and Betsy tells her when she does. Everything else stays hers, and on Sunday you get one text: one line and one story.

She works on any phone, with nothing to install, charge or learn. Pew Research Center (2026) counts 79% of adults 65 and older with a smartphone, which leaves a lot of mothers out of anything you’d download. She never asks for money, and she stops when Mom says stop. She is a computer voice and says so on every call. She isn’t a nurse or an emergency service, and she gives no medical advice. $2 a day, billed $60 a month. See how it starts, and how to tell Mom.

You already know how often you call. What you want to know is whether it’s enough, and on that nobody agrees.

“I get twitchy if I don’t hear from them for a couple of days”

Mumsnet, January 2021

What is the usual advice on calling an elderly mother?

Why do the answers differ?

Because two jobs get mixed up in one number. One is the daily job: somebody asks about her day, and she gets to tell it. The other is yours: you say the kitchen quote came in, and she asks about the kids. The first wants every day, at a set hour. The second wants you awake and not driving.

Pew Research Center reported in 2019 that adults 60 and older who live alone spend about 10 and a half hours alone each day. That is the case for the daily job.

What makes a call count?

A set hour, so you both expect it. A real question: “What did you have for lunch?” gets further than “How are you?”, which gets “fine” in every family. And something to ask, which is the hardest part on a Wednesday when nothing has happened to either of you.

Where Betsy fits

We make Betsy. She takes the daily job: ten minutes, every day, the same voice, the hour Mom picks, and a memory for every conversation. You keep the calls only you can make, and on Sunday she hands you something to ask: “Ask her about the summer she worked the Dairy Queen window in 1961.” She is from you, not instead of you. She says so on the first call, with your name in it: “Sarah set me up because she wanted somebody to call you every single day.” What Betsy is has the rest. What to do if you can’t call every day picks up from here. Is there a service that calls my mom every day? starts from the top.

Ten minutes a day, and she never has to repeat herself.

Is ten minutes enough?

Enough for one good story, or most of one. The drive to Reno gets as far as Winnemucca on Tuesday and finishes on Wednesday, because each call starts where the last one ended. Nothing has to fit in one sitting, and nothing has to be said twice. And ten minutes is easy to say yes to every day, which an hour is not.

What fills the ten minutes?

Mostly Mom. Betsy opens with wherever they left off and asks what a curious friend would ask: “Were you lost?”, not “How did that make you feel?” Not every turn is a question. She says “huh” and “wait, back up,” and then she gets out of the way. What Betsy is has a whole call, start to finish.

What if Mom has to go?

She goes, and nobody makes her feel bad about it. Betsy never guilt-trips a goodbye. A call sounds like this.

Margaret: Oh, that’s a whole other story. And I’ve got my hair at two.

Betsy: Go get your hair done. I want to hear that one. Same time tomorrow?

Margaret: Same time tomorrow.

What if she wants to keep talking?

Betsy is never in a hurry. “I’ve got all the time in the world” is how she puts it on the first call. And the story doesn’t have to end today: Mom can call back any time at the same number, and Betsy knows who it is. If a different hour would suit her better, that is hers to pick too.

We make Betsy. The program’s facts are from its own page on November 5, 2026.

What does Betsy do every day?

She calls at the hour Mom picks, in the same voice, from the same number, forever. Nobody has to find the time. She remembers every conversation, so Mom never has to tell a story twice unless she wants to. Mom can call her any time at the same number, and if she is up at five with the name of the man in Winnemucca, Betsy knows who it is. If she mentions a fall, an illness or someone after her money, you hear the same day.

Every call starts where the last one ended.

How do they look side by side?

Do calls like these help?

A 2021 trial in JAMA Psychiatry tested the rhythm. Sixteen briefly trained callers, aged 17 to 23, phoned Meals on Wheels clients every day for five days, then two to five times a week, as each client chose. 58% chose to stay at five calls a week. After four weeks, people who got calls felt less alone, and less depressed and anxious, than people who didn’t. That trial studied people calling people; the research page sets it beside Betsy.

Pick Betsy if…

• You want someone on the phone with her every day, at the hour she picks.
• You want each call to start where the last one ended.
• You want to hear the same day if she mentions a fall, an illness or someone after her money.
• She is up at odd hours and would like someone to call.

What is a volunteer caller program?

A volunteer phones an older person on the program’s schedule, just to talk. DOROT’s Caring Calls, for one, pairs older adults with a volunteer for a weekly phone conversation. Counties and nonprofits run others; the programs list has them by state, and the compare page has every other service.

What Betsy is has the whole picture. Is there a service that calls my mom every day? starts from the top, and how Betsy differs from a press-1 call covers the other common question.

We make Betsy. The other services’ facts are from their own sites on November 5, 2026.

What does Betsy do that a key press can’t?

She asks. Did the plumber ever show? How’s the knee? Anybody call you about money this week? Pressing a key tells you Mom reached the phone. It can’t tell you that the plumber never came, that she has been dizzy on the stairs, or that a man has rung twice about her bank. She has to say those things to someone, and Betsy is somebody to tell. If she mentions a fall, an illness or someone after her money, you hear the same day, in her own words.

WHYY News reported in 2025 on a Delaware man of 75 who walks three miles a day, answers a recorded morning call, and always has a kind word for it.

“If it’s raining, he says, ‘Stay dry.’”

The police officer who runs the call, to WHYY News, 2025

Betsy wants to know where the three miles go.

How do they look side by side?

Pick Betsy if…

• You want somebody asking about her life every day.
• You want each call to start where the last one ended.
• You want to hear the same day if she mentions a fall, an illness or someone after her money.
• You want the same voice, from the same number, at the hour she picks.
• She has stories nobody has asked about lately.

What is an automated check-in call?

A recorded call at a set time. It asks her to press a key, and the call is done. Iamfine and CARE both sell them, and both describe them in those words on their own sites: “press 1.” Prices are on the compare page.

What Betsy is has the whole picture. Is there a service that calls my mom every day? starts from the top, how Betsy differs from a volunteer caller covers the other common question, and what Betsy tells the family lists what reaches you.

The pages that come up for this question are mostly about whether he can still live alone. You are asking something smaller and harder. A man of 75 who lives alone in Delaware, with his family more than 100 miles away, said what family means from his side.

“I have church family but it’s not like your family family.”

To WHYY News, 2025

Why doesn’t “I’m fine” tell you anything?

It is the answer to “How are you?” in every family, and fathers are fluent in it. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (2026) says more than one out of four older people falls each year, but less than half tell their doctor. A man who won’t tell his doctor may not tell you. “Call me if you need anything” leaves the job with him, and he may be the person least able to carry it. Ask about his day instead.

A checklist for any call with Dad

• What he had for lunch, by name.
• Whether he got out today, and who he saw.
• How he slept, and what got him up.
• Whether the house is warm enough, or cool enough.
• Whether anybody called about money this week.
• What’s on for tomorrow.

Listen to how he answers as much as to what he says. One call tells you little. Three weeks of them tell you what’s normal for him.

Who can stop by?

One person, by name, with a key and your number: the neighbor, the man from church, his barber. Someone who can glance at the fridge, the mail and the stairs once a week.

What if you call and can’t reach him?

Decide now, and tape it to your own fridge.

1. Wait twenty minutes and call again. He may be in the yard.
2. Try his other phone, if he has one.
3. Call the neighbor with the key.
4. If nobody has reached him and you’re worried, call the police non-emergency line for his town and ask for a welfare check. That is an officer at his door.
5. If you believe he is hurt, call 911.

Where Betsy fits

We make Betsy. She gives Dad somebody to tell. She calls at the hour he picks, in the same voice, from the same number, on any phone, and asks about his life. She remembers every conversation, so “fine” doesn’t have to be where it ends. If he mentions a fall, an illness or someone after his money, you hear the same day, and Betsy tells him when she does. On Sunday you get one text: “Dad had a good week. Ask him about the man who tried to return the toilet.” Everything else stays his. Does Betsy work for Dad? covers him in particular, what she does if a fall comes up walks through it, and what Betsy is has the rest.

What are the steps?

1. Call 1-855-HI-BETSY (1-855-442-3879), any hour.
2. Say “stop.”
3. Betsy says it back before you hang up.
4. The calls stop and the billing stops.

No script, no “are you sure.”

Writing to hello@hibetsy.com also works. The phone is quicker.

Who gets to say it?

Whoever pays, on that number, and Mom, on any call. If she says it, you’ll hear only that it stopped. Either way, the calls stop and the billing stops. She can say it in one word, and she owes nobody a reason. Betsy tells her so on the first call, before Mom has any cause to ask. A call sounds like this.

Betsy: And Margaret, if you ever want me to stop, just say so. Same time tomorrow?

“Same time tomorrow?” closes every call. It is a real question, and no is an answer she is allowed. Does Mom have to agree? has the rest of how her yes works.

What if I’m the one who wants to end it?

Call and say stop. There’s no person to get past, and you owe nobody a reason either. A word with Mom first is a kindness, since she is the one expecting the phone to ring, and she may be in the middle of a story.

What happens to the money?

Say stop before day eight, and you pay nothing: the first week starts with her first call, and billing starts on day eight. After that, unused months are refunded. The rest of that month comes back to you, without your asking. There is no setup fee to lose and no device to send back, because there never was one. What Betsy costs has the rest of the price, Betsy’s terms have it in plain words, and what Betsy is has everything else.

How many older Americans live alone, and how often do they fall or go to the hospital?

• 16.7 million of the 64.8 million adults 65 and older in the US lived alone in 2025: 10,964,324 women and 5,723,139 men, by our sum of the table’s two rows (US Census Bureau, American Community Survey 1-year, Table B09020, 2025).
• 28% of older adults living in the community, about 16.2 million people, lived alone in 2023: 5.7 million men (22% of older men) and 10.5 million women (33% of older women) (Administration for Community Living, 2023 Profile of Older Americans, 2024).
• 26% of adults 65 and older lived alone in 2023, down from 29% in 1990, in an analysis that also counts people in nursing homes and other group quarters (Pew Research Center, A smaller share of older U.S. adults live alone today than in 1990, 2025).
• 41.8% of women 75 and older lived alone in 2023, compared with 23.0% of men that age (US Census Bureau, Table AD-3: Living Arrangements of Adults 75 and Over, 2023).
• 38% of adults 85 and older lived alone in 2023, compared with 24% of adults 65 to 84 (Pew Research Center, A smaller share of older U.S. adults live alone today than in 1990, 2025).
• 32% of older Black adults lived alone in 2023, compared with 27% of White, 19% of Hispanic and 14% of Asian older adults (Pew Research Center, A smaller share of older U.S. adults live alone today than in 1990, 2025).
• 1,472,499 adults 65 and older lived alone in California in 2025, the largest estimate of any state, ahead of Florida (1,276,125), Texas (1,094,474) and New York (1,068,603), by our sum of each state’s two rows (US Census Bureau, American Community Survey 1-year, Table B09020 by state, 2025).
• 30.5% of adults 65 and older in North Dakota lived alone in 2025, the highest estimate of any state, and 19.6% in Hawaii, the lowest; the District of Columbia’s estimate was 41.7%, all by our calculation from the table (US Census Bureau, American Community Survey 1-year, Table B09020 by state, 2025).
• 75% of adults 50 and older would like to live in their current home for as long as possible, and 73% in their current community (AARP, 2024 Home and Community Preferences Survey, 2025).
• 1 in 4 older adults, over 14 million people, report falling every year (Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, Older Adult Falls Data, reviewed 2026).
• 4.5 million emergency department visits for older adult falls were recorded in 2024, by the CDC’s rounded count (Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, About Older Adult Fall Prevention, reviewed 2026).
• 27.5% of adults 65 and older reported at least one fall in the past year in 2018, rising to 33.8% at 85 and older, with 8.4 million fall-related injuries in all (Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, MMWR report on falls among adults 65 and older, 2020).
• 76 emergency department visits per 100 people aged 75 and older were recorded in 2022, compared with 47 per 100 at all ages (National Center for Health Statistics, Data Brief 503, 2024).
• 16.0 readmissions within 30 days per 100 hospital admissions was the 2020 rate for Medicare patients 65 and older (Agency for Healthcare Research and Quality, Characteristics of 30-Day All-Cause Hospital Readmissions, 2016-2020, 2023).

What phones and technology do older adults use?

• 96% of adults 65 and older own a cellphone of some kind, in a survey conducted from January to June 2026 (Pew Research Center, Americans’ Use of Mobile Devices in 2026, 2026).
• 79% of adults 65 and older own a smartphone, and 14% own a cellphone that is not a smartphone (Pew Research Center, Americans’ Use of Mobile Devices in 2026, 2026).
• 63.4% of adults 65 and over were wireless-only from July to December 2025 (National Center for Health Statistics, Wireless Substitution: Early Release, July-December 2025, 2026).
• 35.2% of adults 65 and over had a landline from July to December 2025, by our sum of the report’s four landline groups: 16.7% wireless-mostly, 8.5% dual-users, 6.5% landline-mostly and 3.5% landline-only (National Center for Health Statistics, Wireless Substitution: Early Release, July-December 2025, 2026).
• 1.2% of adults 65 and over had no phone of any kind from July to December 2025 (National Center for Health Statistics, Wireless Substitution: Early Release, July-December 2025, 2026).
• 89% of adults 65 and older use the internet, compared with 99% of adults under 50 (Pew Research Center, Americans’ Use of Internet, Broadband in 2026, 2026).
• 71% of adults 65 and older subscribe to home broadband, and 16% own a smartphone but have no broadband at home (Pew Research Center, Americans’ Use of Internet, Broadband in 2026, 2026).
• 1 in 3 people in the US aged 65 to 74 has hearing loss, and nearly half of those older than 75 have difficulty hearing (National Institute on Deafness and Other Communication Disorders, NIH, Age-Related Hearing Loss, 2023).

How much time do older adults spend alone?

• 10.5 hours a day, roughly, is how long adults 60 and older who live by themselves say they spend alone, almost twice the time of those who live with a spouse, in survey data for 2014 to 2017 (Pew Research Center, On average, older adults spend over half their waking hours alone, 2019).
• 37% of adults 60 and older who live alone report spending all their measured time alone, compared with 14% of all adults 60 and older (Pew Research Center, On average, older adults spend over half their waking hours alone, 2019).
• 7 hours 47 minutes a day alone is the average for people 80 and older, compared with about 4 hours 45 minutes for people in their 40s and 50s (Pew Research Center, On average, older adults spend over half their waking hours alone, 2019).
• 4.3 hours a day went to watching TV among people 65 and over in 2025, compared with 2.61 hours for everyone 15 and over (US Bureau of Labor Statistics, American Time Use Survey, 2025).
• 0.56 hours a day, about 34 minutes, went to socializing and communicating among people 65 and over in 2025, compared with 0.58 hours for everyone 15 and over (US Bureau of Labor Statistics, American Time Use Survey, 2025).
• 51% of adults 65 and older who live alone say they feel lonely or isolated at least sometimes, compared with 35% of all adults 65 and older (Pew Research Center, How Americans Are Thinking About Aging, 2025).
• 71% of adults 65 and older with adult children are in touch with them at least a few times a week, in person, by phone or by text: 77% of women and 64% of men (Pew Research Center, How Americans Are Thinking About Aging, 2025).
• 46.5% of adults 50 to 80 who lived alone said they lacked companionship at least some of the time in 2023, compared with 33.4% of those who did not live alone (University of Michigan National Poll on Healthy Aging, Loneliness and Social Isolation Among US Older Adults, JAMA, 2025).
• 33.4% of all adults 50 to 80 said they lacked companionship at least some of the time in 2024, and 29.2% said they felt isolated; among those 65 to 80 the shares were 27.6% and 23.1% (University of Michigan National Poll on Healthy Aging, Loneliness and Social Isolation Among US Older Adults, JAMA, 2025).
• 28% of adults 70 and older were lonely on AARP’s measure in 2025, compared with 49% of adults 45 to 49 and 40% of all adults 45 and older (AARP, Disconnected: The escalating challenge of loneliness among adults 45-plus, 2025).

How many family caregivers are there, and how far away do they live?

• 63 million Americans, nearly 1 in 4 adults, provided ongoing care for an adult or a child with a complex medical condition or a disability in the past year, up 20 million from 2015 (AARP and National Alliance for Caregiving, Caregiving in the US 2025, 2025).
• 51 million Americans, nearly 1 in 5 adults, were caring for someone age 50 or older in 2025 (AARP and National Alliance for Caregiving, Family Caregivers of Adults Age 50-plus, 2026).
• 27 hours a week is the average time family caregivers spend providing care, and 24% provide 40 hours or more (AARP and National Alliance for Caregiving, Caregiving in the US 2025, 2025).
• 5.5 years is the average duration of family caregiving, and nearly 30% of caregivers have provided care for five years or more (AARP and National Alliance for Caregiving, Caregiving in the US 2025, 2025).
• 11% of family caregivers live an hour or more from the person they care for, including 8% who live two hours or more away; 40% live with that person (AARP and National Alliance for Caregiving, Caregiving in the US 2025, 2025).
• 3 in 10 adults 50 and older who get family care and live in a home or community setting live alone, and 36% of those 85 or older do (AARP and National Alliance for Caregiving, Family Caregivers of Adults Age 50-plus, 2026).
• 24% of family caregivers say they feel alone, a share that has grown since 2020 (AARP and National Alliance for Caregiving, Caregiving in the US 2025, 2025).
• $1.01 trillion a year is what 49.5 billion hours of family care for adults would be worth if paid in the marketplace (AARP, Valuing the Invaluable 2026, 2026).
• 38.2 million people aged 15 and over, 14% of that population, gave unpaid care in 2023 and 2024 to someone 65 or older who needed help because of a condition related to aging, and 47% of them cared for a parent (US Bureau of Labor Statistics, Unpaid Eldercare in the United States, 2023-2024 Summary, 2025).
• 79% of those unpaid eldercare providers cared solely for someone they did not live with, and 25% provided care daily (US Bureau of Labor Statistics, Unpaid Eldercare in the United States, 2023-2024 Summary, 2025).

How much money do older adults have, and how much do they lose to fraud?

• $7.748 billion in losses was reported to the FBI by people 60 and over in 2025, up 59% from 2024, across 201,266 complaints averaging $38,500; 12,444 complainants lost more than $100,000 (Federal Bureau of Investigation, Internet Crime Complaint Center, 2025 IC3 Annual Report, 2026).
• $3 billion and more in fraud losses was reported to the FTC by people 60 and older in 2025, a 400% increase from 2020 (Federal Trade Commission, Protecting Older Consumers 2025-2026, 2026).
• $13.3 billion to $119.5 billion is the FTC’s estimate of the overall cost of fraud to older adults in 2025, depending on method, because many frauds go unreported (Federal Trade Commission, Protecting Older Consumers 2025-2026, 2026).
• $900 or so was the median amount reported lost by people 60 and over in 2025, while people 80 and over reported a median of $2,000, far higher than any other age group (Federal Trade Commission, Protecting Older Consumers 2025-2026, 2026).
• $3,000 was the median amount older adults reported losing when a fraud started with a phone call in 2025, compared with $599 when it started on social media (Federal Trade Commission, Protecting Older Consumers 2025-2026, 2026).
• 17% of fraud reports filed for people 80 and over in 2025 came from someone reporting on their behalf, a far higher rate than for any other age group (Federal Trade Commission, Protecting Older Consumers 2025-2026, 2026).
• 23% of 1,408 Americans and Canadians who were targeted by a scam and reported it engaged and lost money, and respondents were more likely to lose money if they had nobody to discuss the offer with (FINRA Investor Education Foundation, BBB Institute and Stanford Center on Longevity, Exposed to Scams, 2019).
• 53% of adults 65 and older living alone have incomes below the Elder Index, a measure of what basic needs cost, compared with 25% of older couples (University of Massachusetts Boston, Living Between the Lines: Economic Insecurity and Older Americans, 2026).
• 17.7% of older people living alone were poor in 2022, compared with 6.6% of older people living with families (Administration for Community Living, 2023 Profile of Older Americans, 2024).
• $35 an hour was the national median cost of in-home care in 2025, or $80,080 a year at 44 hours a week (CareScout, 2025 Cost of Care Survey, 2026).

What have phone-call trials found?

These are the trials worth reading first. Trials differ in who calls, how often and what they measure, and not every trial finds an effect; the research page says where the evidence runs out.

• 240 adults aged 27 to 101 served by Meals on Wheels Central Texas, 63% of them 65 or older and 56% living alone, were randomly assigned in 2020 to four weeks of empathy-focused calls from lay callers or to no calls (Kahlon et al., Effect of Layperson-Delivered, Empathy-Focused Program of Telephone Calls, JAMA Psychiatry, 2021).
• 1.1 points was the improvement on a three-item loneliness scale in that trial, compared with no calls (Cohen d, 0.48), with depression scores 1.5 points better and anxiety scores 1.8 points better. A second loneliness scale showed no significant difference, and the authors say it is unclear whether benefits last past four weeks (Kahlon et al., JAMA Psychiatry, 2021).
• 58% of the people called in that trial chose to keep five calls a week for the last three weeks, when they could have chosen as few as two (Kahlon et al., JAMA Psychiatry, 2021).
• 1.65 points was the adjusted difference in depression scores at three months in a trial of 435 socially isolated adults 65 and older in England and Wales, favoring up to eight weekly phone sessions of behavioral activation over usual care. Emotional loneliness improved too; social loneliness did not (Gilbody et al., BASIL+ trial, Lancet Healthy Longevity, 2024).
• 119 adults 65 and older in the Region of Murcia, Spain, were assigned to weekly 30-minute calls from trained nursing students for nine months or to standard care, and 85 finished. Loneliness, social support and depressive symptoms improved against the control group; functional status, sleep quality and quality of life showed no significant differences (Hernández-López et al., HELPeN Telephone-Call Program, Journal of Clinical Medicine, 2025).
• 1.75 more unmet service needs were identified when social workers at an Area Agency on Aging used semi-structured telephone reassurance calls rather than unstructured friendly calls, in a randomized pilot of 43 older adults that added about seven minutes a call (Minyo et al., Developing and testing a protocol for telephone reassurance calls, Innovation in Aging, 2024).

How to cite this page

Cite the original source named in the fact, and this page as: Hi Betsy, “Facts and figures: older Americans who live alone (2026)”, fact 12, checked November 5, 2026, https://hibetsy.com/facts#fact-12. Each fact has its own anchor, from https://hibetsy.com/facts#fact-1 to https://hibetsy.com/facts#fact-58.

How this page is kept

Every figure comes from the source named beside it, read on the date shown at the top of this page.

We make Betsy, so she comes first here. Other services’ facts are from their own sites, checked November 5, 2026.

ElliQ sits on a table and talks with her in the room, and it runs on power and Wi-Fi. If you’d rather her own phone did the talking, start here.

Betsy (ours): what does she plug in?

Nothing. Her phone rings. Every day, at the hour she picks, Betsy calls from the same local number, in the same voice, on a cell, a landline or a flip phone. There is no screen to look at and nothing to install, charge or learn. She asks about Mom’s life, talks about a third of the time, and leaves the rest to Mom. She remembers every conversation, so each call starts where the last one ended. If Mom wants to talk at three in the afternoon, she dials the same number, and Betsy knows who it is. Betsy is a computer voice and says so on every call. What Betsy is has the rest.

A call sounds like this.

Betsy: Margaret, it’s Betsy, the one who isn’t a person. Who was the worst kid you ever taught?

Margaret: Dennis Kowalski. Fourth grade, 1971. He put a frog in my desk.

Betsy: What did you do with the frog?

Margaret: Taught the whole science lesson with it on his shoulder.

Betsy: Huh. And Dennis?

Margaret: He’s a vet in Toledo now. Sends me a card every Christmas.

Betsy: Same time tomorrow?

Margaret: Same time tomorrow.

Nothing to plug in. Nothing to send back. Her phone rings.

What does the family hear?

One text on Sunday, one line and one story: “Margaret had a good week. Ask her about Dennis and the frog.” If she tells Betsy about a fall, an illness or someone after her money, you hear the same day, in her own words, and Betsy tells her when she does. Everything else stays hers, because that is why she keeps talking.

What does it cost?

$2 a day, billed $60 a month. No device, no setup fee, no contract, no tiers. The one thing that comes in the mail is a card, addressed to her, from you, with your note on it. Your payment card goes on file before her first call, and nothing is charged until day eight. If the first week doesn’t make Mom’s day, call and say stop before then, and you pay nothing. Say “stop” and it stops, and unused months are refunded.

Which phone calls need no device?

Each of these is a computer voice on the phone.

• ElderVoice. A voice named Evelyn phones at a time the family sets. $25 a month for three calls a week, $49 for daily calls, $99 for daily calls she can also phone into.
• Joy Calls. A voice named Joy, daily or weekly. $9.99 a month for 60 minutes, $19.99 for 120, $29.99 for 180.
• Callie Care. A voice she can phone, or that phones her every day. $15.00 a month.

Which press-1 calls and texts are there?

• Iamfine. A recorded call once or twice a day; she presses 1. $14.99 a month or $120 a year.
• CheckinBee. A daily text she answers. $13 a month, or $20 for up to three a day.

Which people call or visit?

• ToneOfCare. A person phones at the same time each day. $119 a month for one call a day.
• Papa. A paid person visits for company, rides, errands and light housework. $30 an hour if you pay for it yourself.

What public programs are there?

They are run by states, sheriffs and nonprofits, for the people they serve.

• Chautauqua County Sheriff R.U.O.K., New York. A computer calls each day and plays a recorded message from the sheriff; she speaks to confirm. At no cost to county residents. 716-753-4582.
• Friendship Line, California. A line from the nonprofit Institute on Aging for adults 60 and older, answered by trained team members, with outbound calls on request. At no cost. 888-670-1360.
• Eldercare Locator, 1-800-677-1116. A federal public service that connects you to local services for older adults. Our list by state has more.

What other devices are there?

• ElliQ, where you started. A tabletop device with a screen, leased, not sold. A $249 one-time fee, plus $59 a month, $49 a month billed yearly, or $39 a month billed every 24 months. Its FAQ says a $1,500 fee applies to a device not returned within 45 days of cancelling.
• Alexa Emergency Assist. She asks an Echo device or the Alexa app for help, and an agent answers. $5.99 a month as a Prime member, or $59.00 a year.
• Aloe Care Health. A voice-activated hub for the home, connected to an emergency call center. $39.99 a month plus $199.99 for the hardware.

How do they line up?

How do you choose?

Does she get a real conversation, or a keypress?

If talk is what you were after, look for a call that talks. Betsy talks with Mom for about ten minutes a day, and the rest of the day is Mom’s own, with nothing on the counter.

Does the voice remember her?

Betsy remembers every conversation: Harold’s name, which knee, Dennis and the frog. Each call starts where the last one ended, so she never has to tell a story twice, unless she wants to.

Can she keep the phone she has, with nothing to wear or charge?

Yes, and that may be why you’re here. There is no lease, no outlet to find and nothing to send back. Betsy rings a cell, a landline or a flip phone, and Mom answers it the way she always has.

See how it starts, or set Betsy and ElliQ side by side. If you began somewhere else, try Alexa Together alternatives or medical alert pendant alternatives.

We make Betsy, so she comes first here. Other services’ facts are from their own sites, checked November 5, 2026.

You may have ElderVoice on Mom’s phone already, or you may still be reading about it. Either way, you’ve decided a computer voice is worth a try. What’s left is which one she’ll pick up for tomorrow.

Betsy (ours): what does she do?

Every day, at the hour Mom picks, Betsy calls from the same local number, in the same voice, and asks about her life. She talks about a third of the time; the rest is Mom’s. She remembers every conversation, so each call starts where the last one ended. Mom can also call her any time at that number, and Betsy knows who it is. There is one plan, and all of that is in it. Betsy is a computer voice, says so on every call, and never asks for money. What Betsy is has the rest.

A call sounds like this.

Betsy: Hi Margaret, it’s Betsy, the one who isn’t a person. You were going to tell me who ended up with the blue bowl.

Margaret: My sister. She’s had it since 1968, and she knows it’s mine.

Betsy: Did you ever ask for it back?

Margaret: Every Thanksgiving. She puts the potatoes in it and looks right at me.

Betsy: Oh, that’s wonderful. Same time tomorrow?

Margaret: Same time tomorrow.

On Sunday you get one text, one line and one story: “Margaret had a good week. Ask her about the blue bowl.” The story is only ever one she okayed. If she tells Betsy about a fall, an illness or someone after her money, you hear the same day, in her own words, and Betsy tells her when she does. Everything else stays hers, because that is why she keeps talking.

The price is $2 a day, billed $60 a month. No device, no setup fee, no contract, no tiers. Your card goes on file before her first call, and nothing is charged until day eight. If the first week doesn’t make Mom’s day, call and say stop before then, and you pay nothing. Say “stop” and it stops, and unused months are refunded.

One voice, one number, one price, and every call remembered.

What other conversation calls are there?

All of these are computer voices on the phone.

• ElderVoice, where you started. A voice named Evelyn phones at a time the family sets. $25 a month for three calls a week, $49 for daily calls, $99 for daily calls she can also phone into.
• Senior Call. A short spoken check-in at a chosen morning or evening hour. $9.99 a month or $99 a year.
• AllsWell. A daily call of about two minutes. $19 a month or $190 a year.
• AloneAssist. A call each morning of one to three minutes. $19.99 a month, or $24.99 on its family plan.
• Joy Calls. A voice named Joy, daily or weekly. $9.99 a month for 60 minutes, $19.99 for 120, $29.99 for 180.

Which press-1 calls and texts are there?

These ask her for a key or a reply.

• Iamfine. A recorded call once or twice a day; she presses 1. $14.99 a month or $120 a year.
• CheckinBee. A daily text she answers. $13 a month, or $20 for up to three a day.

Which people call or visit?

• CareCheckers. Live representatives in the US phone on a set schedule. $29.95 a month for one call a day, Monday to Friday, or $49.95 with weekends.
• ToneOfCare. A person phones at the same time each day. $119 a month for one call a day.

What public programs are there?

Some states and counties run daily calls for their own residents.

• Maryland Senior Call Check and Social Connections. Daily automated calls or texts, with an optional weekly live call, at no cost to Maryland residents 60 and older. 1-866-502-0560.
• Eldercare Locator, 1-800-677-1116. A federal public service that connects you to local services for older adults. It places no calls itself. Our list by state has more programs.

What about devices and pendants?

• ElliQ. A tabletop device with a screen that talks with her at home. Leased: a $249 one-time fee plus $59 a month on its monthly plan.
• Lifeline. A help button on a pendant or wristband that connects her to a care specialist when she presses it. Starting at $34.95 a month.

How do they line up?

How do you choose?

Does she get a real conversation, or a keypress?

A press-1 call asks for one key. Betsy asks who ended up with the blue bowl, then waits for the answer. Most of the ten minutes is Mom’s.

Does the voice remember her?

Betsy does: every conversation, with nothing to repeat. Harold’s name, which knee, the drive to Reno. Tomorrow’s call starts where today’s stopped.

Can she keep the phone she has, with nothing to wear or charge?

Yes. Betsy calls a cell, a landline or a flip phone, and on a landline the caller-ID box reads BETSY. There is nothing to install, charge or learn. She answers the phone, which she has done her whole life.

See how it starts, or set Betsy and ElderVoice side by side. If you began somewhere else, try Iamfine alternatives, medical alert pendant alternatives or the best services that call your mother every day.

Nobody gets a cold call.

How does her yes work?

1. Before the first call. She dials when she is ready, which is the default. Or you choose to have Betsy call: you confirm she’s okay with it, you tell her to expect the call, and we keep a record of who said so and when.
2. On the first call. Betsy says what she is in the first ninety seconds, says she keeps a recording so she can remember what Mom tells her, and asks, “Is that all right with you?”
3. At the end of every call. “Same time tomorrow?” It is a real question, and she can say no.

What do I actually say to her?

Something she can say no to. This is the text we give you, to send from your own phone:

Your text: Mom, I signed you up for something called Betsy. She’ll call you every day if you want her to. Save this number as Betsy: (the number on your Tell Mom screen). Call her when you’re ready. She knows you’re coming.

“If you want her to” is the part that matters. Tell Mom has the other versions, including the one for your phone on her kitchen table.

Can I set it up as a surprise?

No. Betsy never calls cold. She calls someone who said yes herself, or someone whose child confirmed she’s okay with it and told her to expect the call, as her terms say. A surprise is how a scam arrives. Your own voice or your own text is how Betsy does. Will Betsy ever ask for money? covers the rest of that.

What if she says no?

Then Betsy doesn’t call. If you think she might like the voice more than the idea, put your phone on the table next time you visit and call Betsy together, so she hears it with you in the room and answers for herself. If she tries it and later says stop on any call, the calls stop. What Betsy is has the rest, and Betsy for a parent who says she’s fine is for the mother who has already told you no.

If it rings, it works.

Is a landline harder for Betsy?

Easier. Cell carriers don’t show a caller’s name, so a cell phone shows ten digits until the number is saved. A landline with a caller-ID box reads BETSY, and nobody has to save anything. If there is no box, the phone just rings, as it always has.

How do I tell her without a text?

Say it out loud, because a landline can’t take your text. Call her, or tell her at the kitchen table:

You say: Mom, I signed you up for something called Betsy. She’ll call you every day if you want her to. Call her when you’re ready. She knows you’re coming.

Then read her the number and have her write it by the phone. She can dial Betsy from that same landline any time, and Betsy knows who it is. Tell Mom has the rest of the words, including what to say if she asks what Betsy is.

Does anything else have to change in the house?

Nothing. No device, nothing to plug in, nothing to wear or charge. She answers the phone, which she has done her whole life. The Sunday text goes to the family’s phones, not hers. For the rest of the picture, see Betsy for a mother who only has a landline, what time Betsy calls and what Betsy is.

About two in three older Americans who live alone are women. That leaves a lot of fathers. The Administration for Community Living’s 2023 profile counts 5.7 million men 65 and older living alone. In a 2019 Pew Research Center analysis of time diaries, 43% of men 60 and older who live alone reported spending all of their measured time alone, against 34% of women who live alone.

There is one Betsy. There is no Bert.

Does Dad get a different voice?

No. He gets the same voice every mother gets. Betsy is one character, not a setting, so there is no men’s version and no menu of voices. She says what she is on every call, before she asks a question: a computer voice, not a person. The one thing that changes is the word. You tell us what you call him, and every line we send you uses it: Dad, Pop, Papa.

What does she talk to a man about?

What he did. Betsy asks about his life, not how he feels. If he ran a hardware store for forty-one years, she wants the strangest thing anyone ever tried to return. If he played bass at four hundred weddings, she wants the worst one. She talks about a third of the time; the rest is his.

A call sounds like this.

Betsy: Hi Leon, it’s Betsy, the one who isn’t a person. You were going to tell me what that man tried to return.

Leon: A toilet. Used. He carried it in himself, with the receipt.

Betsy: He kept the receipt?

Leon: Taped to the tank. Forty-one years I ran that store, and he’s still the one I tell people about.

Betsy: Wait, back up. Did you take it?

Leon: I gave him store credit. He bought a plunger.

Betsy: Huh. Same time tomorrow?

Leon: Same time tomorrow.

What do you hear about him?

On Sunday, one text: “Dad had a good week. Ask him about the man who tried to return the toilet.” If he mentions a fall, an illness or someone after his money, or asks Betsy to pass something along, you hear the same day. Everything else stays his, which is why he keeps talking.

How does he start?

You tell him yourself, in your own words. Tell Mom has the scripts, and they work the same for Dad. He calls Betsy when he’s ready, at the same number, any time, and she knows who it is. Or Betsy calls him, once you confirm he’s okay with it and tell him to expect the call. If he says “stop” on any call, it stops, and unused months are refunded. What Betsy is has the rest, a father who lives alone goes deeper, and how do I know my dad is okay? takes on the worry itself.

How does she ask?

In her own voice, on the first call, before the first story. A call sounds like this.

Betsy: I keep a recording of our calls, so I can remember what you tell me. Is that all right with you?

Margaret: I suppose it is.

Nothing is read out. There is no legal paragraph in a different voice. It is a plain question from the voice doing the keeping, and her answer is kept.

What are the recordings for?

Remembering. That is how each call starts where the last one ended, and how Betsy knows which knee and who Harold was. If Mom says no, Betsy keeps only her name, her number and a line about the call.

Who can hear a recording?

Not the family. Paying doesn’t let anyone in the family hear her calls: what reaches you is three things and one line on Sunday, and only a story she okayed. Betsy’s team has access to recordings to keep the service running well. Companies that carry the call, turn speech into words, write her replies, make her voice and store recordings handle what’s said so she can answer. We never sell anything about her. Who hears Mom’s calls goes through everyone, what Betsy tells the family covers what travels, and what Betsy keeps has it all in plain words.

How do you delete one?

Call 1-855-HI-BETSY from the same phone and ask her, or write to hello@hibetsy.com. It’s deleted within 30 days.

Does it matter what state Mom lives in?

Some states need a person’s yes before a call is recorded, which is what all-party consent means. Betsy doesn’t sort mothers by state. Whoever dialed, the first ninety seconds are the same, so every mother gets the same plain question wherever she lives. What Betsy is has the rest.

Nothing is said to the family that Mom couldn’t overhear.

What does she hear?

The truth, in a line or two. A call sounds like this.

Margaret: Betsy, what have you told Sarah?

Betsy: That you had a good week, and to ask you about the summer you worked the Dairy Queen window.

What has Betsy told the family?

These, and only these, in a list short enough for Mom to say to her sister in one breath:

• A fall, an injury or an illness she mentioned, including talk of hurting herself.
• Somebody after her money.
• Anything she asked Betsy to pass along.
• On Sunday, one line and one story she okayed.

Everything else stays hers. What Betsy tells the family has the same list from your side of it, and who hears Mom’s calls goes through who can hear what.

Why does this matter so much?

Because a mother who is afraid of being watched stops talking, and one who can check for herself keeps going. It changes your side of it too. When you ring that evening about the slip on the kitchen floor, it isn’t an ambush. She already knows you know, because Betsy told her. The rest is on what Betsy is.

Can her very first call be one she makes?

Yes. She dials: that is the default, and it puts the first move in her hands. You send her the number with the line “Call her when you’re ready. She knows you’re coming.” Whenever she does, Betsy is expecting her. A call sounds like this.

Betsy: Hi, this is Betsy. Is this Margaret?

Margaret: It is.

Betsy: Oh good. Sarah said you might call.

She picks up the phone, chooses the hour and decides whether there is a tomorrow. Tell Mom has the words, and does Mom have to agree has the other way to begin.

Which number does she dial?

Her own Betsy number: the same local number Betsy calls from, the one you sent her and the one to save as Betsy. It works from a landline, a flip phone or a cell. 1-855-HI-BETSY is a different door. Anyone can call it, any hour, and Betsy answers. It never calls anyone, so it never rings Mom’s phone.

What if it’s before nine or after eight?

That window belongs to Betsy, not to Mom. Betsy’s own calls go out between 9 a.m. and 8 p.m. in Mom’s local time. Mom has no such limit, so an early riser who has been up since five doesn’t have to wait for the phone to ring.

What can she call about?

Anything. The rest of yesterday’s story. The thing she forgot to say. A message for you: anything she asks Betsy to pass along reaches the family the same day, so “tell Sarah the plumber finally came” will do. After the first time she just dials and says “Hi Betsy,” and each call starts where the last one ended, whoever dialed. The rest is on what Betsy is.

We make Betsy. Each company’s facts are from its own site, checked November 5, 2026.

At a glance

Pick Betsy if…

• She has taken off every device anyone ever gave her. Betsy is a phone call, with nothing to wear, charge or lose.
• You want somebody to ask about her life every day, and remember the answer tomorrow.
• You want to hear about the two rungs and the hydrangeas the same day, in her own words, even though she’d never press a button for it.
• Someone has been calling about her money, and she needs somebody to tell.
• She already picks up a phone: a cell, a landline or a flip phone. That is all Betsy needs.

What is each one for?

A pendant is for pressing in an emergency. Betsy is the daily talk: the hour she picks, the same voice, the story she didn’t finish yesterday. Betsy is not an emergency service, and a pendant is not a conversation.

“I do not want life alert just some one to check on me”

A member of AARP’s online community, 2024

Plenty comes up in a conversation that nobody presses a button for. A call sounds like this.

Betsy: Hi Margaret. Did Harold’s brother ever come for the ladder?

Margaret: He did, and a good thing. I was up on it Sunday after the gutters, and I came down faster than I went up.

Betsy: You came down off a ladder?

Margaret: The last two rungs. I sat in the hydrangeas for a while.

Betsy: That’s one I pass along to Sarah, you know that. How are the hydrangeas?

Margaret: Worse than I am.

She told Betsy because Betsy asked about the ladder. That afternoon, Sarah has her mother’s own words. What Betsy does if Mom mentions a fall has more.

Why does nothing to wear or charge matter?

Because all she has to do is what she already does. The phone rings, and she answers it, as she has her whole life. There is nothing on a cord, nothing in a drawer and no charger on the nightstand. There is no device, no setup fee and no contract, and she can stop with one word. If she already has a pendant, Betsy rings the phone beside it, and neither gets in the other’s way.

A pendant waits to be pressed. Betsy calls every day.

A medical alert or a daily call? goes through the choice step by step. Betsy vs ElliQ and Betsy vs county and sheriff programs cover other things families weigh, and what Betsy is has the whole picture.

What medical alert systems are

A medical alert is a pendant, wristband, wall button or watch with a help button. Pressing it connects her to a staffed center for a monthly fee. Lifeline sells HomeSafe from $34.95 a month and On the Go from $39.95; its pricing page lists a $50 activation fee and a $49.95 programming fee, and its product pages advertise a promotion that waives activation. Medical Guardian sells MG Home from $34.95 and Guardian Flex from $39.95. Bay Alarm Medical lists SOS Home Landline at $27.95 a month. Life Alert gives its price by phone, at 1-800-990-0595.

What we checked and when

• Lifeline’s help button, worn as a pendant or wristband, and its care specialists: lifeline.com, November 5, 2026.
• Lifeline’s prices: HomeSafe Cellular and On the Go, November 5, 2026.
• Lifeline’s setup fee: its pricing page; the promotion: HomeSafe Cellular, November 5, 2026.
• Life Alert’s pendant, wristband, wall button and GPS unit, and updates to caregivers: lifealert.com, November 5, 2026.
• Life Alert’s price by quote: its cost page, November 5, 2026.
• Medical Guardian’s devices and prices: alert system pricing, November 5, 2026.
• Bay Alarm Medical’s devices, its operators, the price and calls to family: its system page, November 5, 2026.

We make Betsy. The programs’ facts are from their own pages, or local news where we say so, on November 5, 2026.

At a glance

Pick Betsy if…

• You want a conversation about her life, every day, in the same voice.
• You want whoever calls tomorrow to remember the garden club.
• She lives somewhere without a program that suits her. Betsy calls wherever she lives in the United States, on the phone she has at home.
• You want to hear the same day, in her own words, if she mentions a fall, an illness or someone after her money.
• She’d like to ring Betsy herself. She can, any time, at the same number, and Betsy knows who it is.

What can a conversation do that a recording can’t?

Ask the next question. Chautauqua County’s FAQ says “A pre-recorded message from the sheriff will play when you answer the phone.” In Maricopa County, Arizona’s Family reported in October 2026, a recording tells her to “push one if you are OK.” Betsy wants to know how the feud at the garden club came out. A call sounds like this.

Betsy: Hi Margaret. So who won, the garden club or the roses?

Margaret: Nobody wins with Dorothy. She’s brought in a man from the county extension.

Betsy: Wait, back up. A man from the county?

Margaret: About the aphids. It’s gotten political.

Betsy: Oh, that’s wonderful. Same time tomorrow?

Margaret: Same time tomorrow.

Nothing stops her having both. She can confirm for the sheriff in the morning, and at four she can tell Betsy about the aphids.

Why does every day, wherever she lives, matter?

A county program serves its county, and a volunteer program often calls once a week. Maryland’s is for Maryland residents 60 and older, and Chautauqua County’s is for that county’s residents. Dutchess County’s volunteers call weekly, according to the county in 2023, and Macomb County’s do too, according to Legal News in 2021.

Betsy calls every day, at the hour she picks, on the phone she already has at home, wherever she lives in the United States. The same voice, from the same local number, forever, and each call starts where the last one ended. How Betsy differs from a volunteer caller goes further, Betsy vs Iamfine and Betsy vs ConfirmOk cover the paid press-1 calls, and what Betsy is has the whole picture.

Every day, at the hour she picks.

What these programs are

These are public services. States, sheriffs, counties and volunteer groups run them for older residents, at no cost to the people they serve. Some are a recorded daily call, like Maryland’s Senior Call Check and Social Connections, 1-866-502-0560, and Chautauqua County’s R.U.O.K.. Some are a volunteer’s weekly chat, like Dutchess County’s Friendly Calls.

To find one near her, call the Eldercare Locator at 1-800-677-1116, a public service of the Administration for Community Living. It connects families to local services and places no calls itself. The programs list has more by state, and how to find one walks through it. Programs change, so call before you count on one.

What we checked and when

• Maryland’s automated calls or texts, who it is for, its phone number and its landline or cell rule: Maryland Department of Aging, November 5, 2026.
• Chautauqua County’s recorded message, residents and cost: county FAQ, November 5, 2026.
• Maricopa County’s “push one if you are OK”: Arizona’s Family, October 15, 2026, read November 5, 2026.
• Dutchess County’s weekly calls of 20 to 30 minutes from trained volunteers: county release, February 7, 2023, read November 5, 2026.
• Macomb County’s weekly volunteer calls: Legal News, August 31, 2021, read November 5, 2026.
• The Eldercare Locator and its number: eldercare.acl.gov, November 5, 2026.

We make Betsy. You make the calls only you can make, and she makes the rest.

At a glance

Pick Betsy if…

• You love her, and you also have a shift, a kid’s fever and a 4:30. You call when you can, and her phone still rings every day.
• You’ve started opening with “Are you eating?” and you’d rather open with the Dairy Queen.
• You want to hear about the stumble the same day, even when she’d keep it from you so you won’t worry.
• You’d like somebody to ask about the drive to Reno on Tuesday and remember it on Wednesday.
• She has things to say that she won’t say to her own child. They stay hers, except a fall, an illness or someone after her money.

Does it have to be you, every evening?

“Every evening, I am expected to call my 84-year-old mother”

A teacher of 54, writing to Dear Abby, 2025

She wrote that on top of a full-time job and two children. Your week has its own shift and its own 4:30. None of it makes you less her person. It means the job was built wrong: one person, one hour, every day. Betsy takes the hour on the days you can’t, so nobody has to find the time. You keep the calls only you can make, two or three a week, with something to say. My mother lives alone and I can’t call every day goes further.

Will she feel handed off?

Betsy answers that on the first call, with your name in it: “Sarah set me up because she wanted somebody to call you every single day.” Betsy is from you, not instead of you. The number reaches Mom from your own phone, in your own words, and Tell Mom gives you those words. She picks the hour, and if she says “stop” on any call, it stops.

What does Sunday give you to say?

A reason to call that isn’t “Are you eating?” On Sunday you get one text from Betsy, with one line and one story. A Sunday text reads like this.

Betsy: Margaret had a good week. Ask her about the summer she worked the Dairy Queen window in 1961.

So you call, and you ask about the Dairy Queen. She never has to tell a story twice unless she wants to, and to you she will. Betsy gives the family more to talk about, and the rest you hear from her.

One line and one story.

If she mentions a fall, an illness or someone after her money, you hear the same day, in her own words. That is the stumble she might keep from you so you won’t worry. Everything else stays hers, because that is why she keeps talking. If you are weighing someone who comes to the door, see Betsy vs Papa. If you are weighing a public program, see Betsy vs county and sheriff programs. What Betsy is has the whole picture.

What we checked and when

• No other service’s facts are on this page. Betsy’s price is as of November 2026.
• The letter to Dear Abby: The Philadelphia Inquirer, August 15, 2025, read November 5, 2026.

We make Betsy. Snug Safety’s facts are from its own site, checked November 5, 2026.

At a glance

Pick Betsy if…

• She has a phone that rings and no wish to learn an app. A cell, a landline or a flip phone will do.
• You’d like her to be asked about the drive to Reno, by somebody who remembers it tomorrow.
• There is no deadline for her to beat. The phone rings at the hour she picks, and answering it is the whole job.
• You want what she mentions in passing to reach you the same day: a fall, an illness, someone after her money.
• She keeps odd hours. She can call Betsy herself any time, at the same number, and Betsy knows who it is.

What can a conversation give her that a checkmark can’t?

“It only takes a few seconds.”

Snug Safety home page, on its daily tap

Betsy takes about ten minutes, and that is the point. Somebody wants to know what happened next. A call sounds like this.

Betsy: Margaret, you never finished. Who was the worst kid you ever taught?

Margaret: Dennis Kowalski, fourth grade, 1971. He brought a snake to the Christmas pageant.

Betsy: Whose idea was the snake?

Margaret: His mother’s, I always thought. She sat in the front row and didn’t flinch.

Betsy: Did you ever say anything to her?

Margaret: I asked her to bring cookies the next year. She brought the snake.

Betsy: Oh, that’s wonderful. Same time tomorrow?

Margaret: Same time tomorrow.

Tomorrow Betsy asks what became of Dennis. Each call starts where the last one ended, and on Sunday you get one text with one story, so you have something better to ask her than “Are you eating?”

Why does it matter that there’s no app?

Because the phone is already in her hand. Snug’s home page says “Snug only requires a smartphone.” Betsy doesn’t need one. A cell, a landline or a flip phone will do, and there is nothing to install, charge or learn. She answers the phone, which she has done her whole life. Nobody has to walk her through anything on a Sunday night, and nobody has to set up a new phone for her first.

Nothing to buy, wear, charge or learn.

If she has never wanted a smartphone, see a parent who won’t use a smartphone. Betsy vs Iamfine and Betsy vs ConfirmOk cover the calls that ask her to press a key, and what Betsy is has the whole picture.

What Snug Safety is

Snug Safety, from Snug Products LLC of Middletown, Delaware, is a smartphone app where she taps a checkmark once a day. The Free plan is $0, up to three check-ins a day are $17.99 a year, and Snug Dispatch is $19.99 a month or $149.99 a year. Its site is snugsafe.com.

What we checked and when

• The app, the green checkmark, “It only takes a few seconds” and one check-in a day: snugsafe.com, November 5, 2026.
• “Snug only requires a smartphone,” iPhone or Android, and the back-up line from any phone: snugsafe.com, November 5, 2026.
• Snug Products LLC of Middletown, Delaware: snugsafe.com, November 5, 2026.
• The $17.99 yearly add-on, and Snug Dispatch at $19.99 a month or $149.99 a year: Snug pricing, November 5, 2026.

We make Betsy. Senior Call’s facts are from its own site, checked November 5, 2026.

At a glance

Pick Betsy if…

• You want her asked about the drive to Reno, and tomorrow’s call to start in Winnemucca.
• You’d like ten minutes with Mom doing most of the talking. Betsy talks about a third of the time.
• You want the same voice from the same local number, forever, saved in her phone as Betsy.
• You want her talk to stay hers, except a fall, an illness or someone after her money, which you hear the same day.
• You’d like one story on Sunday that gives you something to ask her.

What happens after the one question?

“A quick hello and one simple question”

Senior Call home page

There is a second question, and a third, when the caller wants to know what happened next. Betsy asks what Mom did, not how she feels. A call sounds like this.

Betsy: Hi Margaret. You got as far as Winnemucca yesterday.

Margaret: So I did. A man at the gas station drew us a map on a paper bag.

Betsy: Did Harold use it?

Margaret: Harold put it in the glove box and drove the other way.

Betsy: Were you speaking by then?

Margaret: Not until Reno.

Betsy: I want to hear about Reno. Same time tomorrow?

Margaret: Same time tomorrow.

Nothing has to fit in one sitting, and nothing has to be said twice. Betsy talks about a third of the time, and the rest is Mom’s. Things come up in a talk like that: the stairs, the dizzy spell, the man who keeps ringing about her bank. If she mentions a fall, an illness or someone after her money, you hear the same day, in her own words.

What does $2 a day buy?

About five hours a month of somebody asking about her life: thirty calls of about ten minutes each, at the hour she picks, any time from 9 a.m. to 8 p.m. her time. $2 a day, billed $60 a month, is one price, and everything is inside it. The memory of every call. Her own calls to Betsy, any time, at the same number. One text on Sunday, with one line and one story. Word the same day of a fall, an illness or someone after her money. There is one plan, so every mother gets the same voice and the same memory.

Ten minutes a day, and she never has to repeat herself.

No device, no setup fee, no contract, and if the first week doesn’t make Mom’s day, you pay nothing. Betsy vs ElderVoice and Betsy vs AllsWell cover two more calls from a computer voice, and what Betsy is has the whole picture.

What Senior Call is

Senior Call, from Senior Roll Call LLC of Delaware, is a computer voice that phones at a chosen morning or evening hour for a short spoken call. It costs $9.99 a month or $99 a year, on one plan. Its site is seniorcall.io.

What we checked and when

• A computer voice, “A quick hello and one simple question,” and the morning and evening hours: seniorcall.io, November 5, 2026.
• The sample call of 0:52: seniorcall.io, November 5, 2026.
• $9.99 a month or $99 a year: Senior Call plans, November 5, 2026.
• Any landline, flip phone or smartphone: Senior Call FAQ, November 5, 2026.
• Senior Roll Call LLC of Delaware: Senior Call About and Senior Call FAQ, November 5, 2026.

We make Betsy. Papa’s facts are from its own site, checked November 5, 2026.

At a glance

Pick Betsy if…

• What she wants most is somebody to talk to, every day, at the hour she picks.
• You want that at one price a month, with no hourly meter and no visits to book.
• She’d rather not have anyone in the house today, thank you, and you know better than to argue.
• She keeps odd hours. She can call Betsy any time, at the same number, and Betsy knows who it is.
• You’d like to hear the same day if she mentions a fall, an illness or someone after her money.

What does $2 a day buy beside $30 an hour?

Thirty days. At $2 a day, billed $60 a month, Betsy phones every day for about ten minutes, which comes to about five hours of conversation across the month, with the same voice remembering all of it. Betsy talks about a third of the time, and the rest is Mom’s. Nobody has to book anything or find a day on the calendar. At $30 an hour, the same $60 buys two hours with a Papa Pal. One hour’s visit is the price of fifteen days of Betsy.

Thirty days of Betsy, or two hours of visits, for the same $60.

The money covers the memory, the Sunday text with one story, and word the same day of a fall, an illness or someone after her money. There is no device, no setup fee and no contract. If the first week doesn’t make Mom’s day, you pay nothing.

What can a phone call do that a visit can’t?

Turn up every day at the hour she picks, with nobody driving over. There is nothing to tidy and no coffee to put on, and she can take the call in her robe. It also goes the other way. If the name of the man in Winnemucca comes to her at eleven at night, she can call and say so. A call sounds like this.

Margaret: Betsy, it’s Margaret. I know it’s late. Winnemucca.

Betsy: Winnemucca?

Margaret: The man who drew us the map. His name was Orville. It came to me brushing my teeth.

Betsy: Orville. I’ve got it. What did he say to Harold?

Margaret: Nothing you could print.

Tomorrow, at the usual hour, Betsy starts with Orville, because she remembers every conversation and each call starts where the last one ended. Mom never has to explain who Harold was. What she says stays hers, except a fall, an illness or someone after her money, or anything she asks Betsy to pass along. On Sunday you get one text, with one line and one story, so you have something to ask her the next time you call. Can Mom call Betsy herself? has more. Betsy vs ElliQ and Betsy vs calling her yourself cover two other ways families think about this, and what Betsy is has the whole picture.

What Papa is

Papa, from Papa Inc., sends a person called a Papa Pal to visit in person for company, rides, errands and light housework. Self-pay visits are billed at $30 an hour. Its site is papa.com.

What we checked and when

• A Papa Pal, and company, rides, errands and light housework: get.papa.com, November 5, 2026.
• “All visits are billed at a rate of $30 per hour”: get.papa.com, November 5, 2026.
• “Visits start with a 1-hour minimum”: get.papa.com, November 5, 2026.
• Booking online or by calling or texting: get.papa.com, November 5, 2026.
• Papa Inc.: get.papa.com, November 5, 2026.

We make Betsy. Iamfine’s facts are from its own site, checked November 5, 2026.

At a glance

Pick Betsy if…

• She has stories nobody has asked about lately, and you want somebody to ask about the drive to Reno and remember it tomorrow.
• You want to hear the same day about the dizzy spell or the man on the phone, in her own words, even if she’d never ring you about it.
• You’d like answering the phone to be all she has to do. Any phone that rings will do, with nothing to install, charge or learn.
• You want the same voice from the same number, at the hour she picks.
• You want a caller who never asks for money and stops when she says stop.

What can she tell Betsy that she can’t tell a keypad?

Anything she says. Pressing 1 tells you she reached the phone. It can’t tell you she had to sit down on the back step on Tuesday. Betsy asks about the tomatoes, and the rest comes out sideways. A call sounds like this.

Betsy: Margaret, it’s Betsy. How did the tomatoes come through the cold?

Margaret: Most of them. I was out with the old sheets on Tuesday and had to sit down on the back step. I’ve had a dizzy spell or two this week.

Betsy: A dizzy spell or two. Does Sarah know?

Margaret: She worries.

Betsy: That one I pass along, so she’ll hear it today, in your words. Did you save the tomatoes?

Margaret: Every one.

That afternoon, Sarah has her mother’s own words. Betsy told Margaret she would. Everything else from that call stays Margaret’s.

What does $2 a day buy?

$2 a day, billed $60 a month, buys all of this, in one price:

• A conversation of about ten minutes, every day, at the hour she picks.
• A memory of every one, so she never has to tell a story twice unless she wants to.
• Her own calls to Betsy, any time, at the same number.
• One text on Sunday, with one line and one story.
• Word the same day of a fall, an illness or someone after her money.

No device, no setup fee, no contract. If the first week doesn’t make Mom’s day, you pay nothing. What Betsy is has the whole picture, and Betsy vs ConfirmOk and Betsy vs Snug Safety cover two more quick confirmations.

What Iamfine is

Iamfine, from Hambros Inc. of San Jose, California, is an automated call once or twice a day: she presses 1 to confirm she is okay. It costs $14.99 a month or $120 a year, with no setup fee. Its site is dailycall.iamfine.com.

What we checked and when

• $14.99 a month or $120 a year, no setup fee, and one or two calls a day: Iamfine pricing, November 5, 2026.
• “Answer our call and press 1”: dailycall.iamfine.com, November 5, 2026.
• Any phone, the caller ID, and what the family’s emails say: Iamfine FAQ, November 5, 2026.
• Hambros Inc. of San Jose, California: Iamfine Privacy Policy, November 5, 2026.

We make Betsy. ElliQ’s facts are from its own site, checked November 5, 2026.

At a glance

Pick Betsy if…

• She’d rather not have a new thing on the kitchen table.
• She already answers a phone: a cell, a landline or a flip phone. Betsy needs nothing else, and no Wi-Fi.
• You want somebody who asks about the drive to Reno and remembers it tomorrow.
• You want to hear the same day if she mentions a fall, an illness or someone after her money, in her own words.
• You want to be able to stop with one word. Say “stop” and it stops, unused months are refunded, and there is nothing to send back.

Why does nothing to install, wear or charge matter?

Because she has already learned the phone. She answers it, which she has done her whole life. There is no screen to learn, no outlet to find and no Wi-Fi password to call you about. A call sounds like this.

Margaret: Oh, that’s a whole other story. And I’ve got my hair at two.

Betsy: Go get your hair done. I want to hear that one. Same time tomorrow?

Margaret: Same time tomorrow.

Then she hangs up, and the kitchen table is hers again. Betsy is a voice on the phone and nothing else: no face, no screen, nothing in the room. She says what she is on every call, in plain words, before she asks a question. Stopping is as plain as starting. ElliQ’s FAQ says it is “only leased through a membership” and that “a device non return fee of $1,500 applies” if it isn’t returned within 45 days after cancellation. With Betsy there is no box to pack.

Nothing to buy, wear, charge or learn.

What does the first year cost?

Less with Betsy, on either plan below. These are our sums from ElliQ’s published prices: its $249 lease fee plus twelve months at $59 on Monthly, or plus $588 on Annual.

Betsy’s $720 is $2 a day, billed $60 a month, for twelve months, with the memory, her own calls at any hour and the Sunday text inside it. Betsy vs medical alert systems and Betsy vs Papa cover two other ways families think about this. If she has never wanted a smartphone either, see a parent who won’t use a smartphone, and what Betsy is has the whole picture.

What ElliQ is

ElliQ, from Intuition Robotics Inc. of San Francisco, is a tabletop device with a touchscreen that talks with her at home, leased through a membership. The lease fee is $249, and the membership is $59 a month on Monthly, $49 a month on Annual ($588 billed every 12 months) or $39 a month on 24-month ($936 billed every 24 months). Its site is elliq.com.

What we checked and when

• The $249 lease fee, the three plans and their billing: ElliQ membership, November 5, 2026.
• A device, Intuition Robotics Inc. of San Francisco: ElliQ membership, November 5, 2026.
• “only leased through a membership,” power and Wi-Fi, and the $1,500 non-return fee: ElliQ FAQs, November 5, 2026.
• “She remembers what you enjoy and suggests activities that feel right”: ElliQ How it works, November 5, 2026.

We make Betsy. ElderVoice’s facts are from its own site, checked November 5, 2026.

At a glance

Pick Betsy if…

• You want Mom to know who is calling: the same voice, from the same local number, forever, saved in her phone as Betsy.
• You want somebody who asks about the drive to Reno and remembers it tomorrow, on one plan, at one price.
• You want her to talk freely. What she says stays hers, except a fall, an illness or someone after her money, which you hear the same day.
• You’d like one story on Sunday that sends you back to her with something to ask.
• You want her own calls to Betsy, at any hour, inside that one price. Betsy never asks for money, and she stops when Mom says stop.

Why does one voice from one number matter?

It is how she knows who is calling. Betsy’s second promise is that she always calls from the same number, and she says so on the first call: “If a call ever comes from a different number saying it’s me, it isn’t.” You send Mom the number yourself and ask her to save it as Betsy, so that is what her screen says. On a landline, the caller-ID box reads BETSY. If her phone is already full of strangers, that rule is worth a lot; see a mother who keeps getting scam calls.

ElderVoice’s FAQ says its calls come from “a US phone number.” Betsy’s is one local number, the same one forever, and there is one Betsy, who sounds the same on Tuesday as she did in March.

A different number saying it’s Betsy isn’t.

Whose ten minutes are they?

Mom’s. Betsy talks about a third of the time and asks what Mom did, not how she feels. What Mom says stays hers, which is why she keeps talking. A call sounds like this.

Betsy: Hi Margaret. Did you go to Joan’s lunch?

Margaret: I went. Her potato salad has not improved since 1974. Don’t you tell Sarah I said so, she thinks Joan’s a saint.

Betsy: Sarah won’t hear it from me. Who else was there?

Margaret: The whole bridge club, and Dorothy in that hat.

Betsy: Wait, back up. What hat?

Margaret: Now that one you can send to Sarah.

Betsy: I will. Same time tomorrow?

Margaret: Same time tomorrow.

On Sunday, Sarah gets one text: “Margaret had a good week. Ask her about Dorothy’s hat.” The potato salad stays where it is. You get one line about her week and the stories she okays, never a feed, never a score. Three things reach you the same day: a fall, an injury or an illness she mentions; somebody after her money; and anything she asks Betsy to pass along. Betsy tells her when she does.

The phone works both ways, too. She can call Betsy any time, at the same number, and Betsy knows who it is. That is inside the one price. ElderVoice lists calling in as often as she likes on its Anytime Companion plan, at $99 a month.

AloneAssist and Senior Call are two more calls from a computer voice, each with its own page here. What Betsy is has the whole picture.

What ElderVoice is

ElderVoice, from Inverse Collective LLC of Austin, Texas, is a computer voice named Evelyn that phones an older adult at a time the family sets and talks with her. Weekly Check-in is $25 a month for three calls a week, Daily Companion is $49 for daily calls, and Anytime Companion is $99. Its site is eldervoice.com.

What we checked and when

• Evelyn and the time the family sets: eldervoice.com, November 5, 2026.
• The three plans, their prices and what each one lists, including Memory Lane: eldervoice.com, November 5, 2026.
• Each call picking up where the last ended: eldervoice.com, November 5, 2026.
• A computer voice, any phone, no app or internet on her end, and a US phone number: eldervoice.com/faq, November 5, 2026.
• Inverse Collective LLC of Austin, Texas: ElderVoice Terms, November 5, 2026.

We make Betsy. ConfirmOk’s facts are from its own site, checked November 5, 2026.

At a glance

Pick Betsy if…

• You want her asked about her life, by somebody who remembers the answer tomorrow.
• She’d mention the young man from the bank, if somebody asked. Now and then Betsy does: “Anybody call you about money this week?”
• You want to hear about that man the same day, in her words.
• You’d like one story on Sunday that gives you something to ask her.
• You want the same voice from the same number, one that never asks for money and stops when she says stop.

What does she get out of the call?

“They press 1 and # to confirm they’re OK.”

ConfirmOk home page

With Betsy she gets asked. That is most of it. Betsy wants to know who told the Hendersons about the fence, and she’ll want to know how it came out tomorrow. Somebody who asks about the fence is also somebody to tell about the man on the phone, and people who are targeted lose money when they have nobody to tell. A call sounds like this.

Betsy: So who told the Hendersons about the fence?

Margaret: I did, and I’d do it again.

Betsy: Good. Anybody call you about money this week?

Margaret: A young man from the bank. He wanted me to read him the number on my card, to fix a problem with my account.

Betsy: Huh. Did you?

Margaret: I told him I’d go down there myself, and he got short with me.

Betsy: That one I pass along to Sarah, so she’ll hear it today. Same time tomorrow?

Margaret: Same time tomorrow.

Betsy tells Margaret when she passes something on, and everything else stays hers. More on a mother who keeps getting scam calls.

What do you get to talk about on Sunday?

Something better than “Are you eating?” On Sunday you get one text from Betsy, with one line and one story: “Margaret had a good week. Ask her about the summer she worked the Dairy Queen window in 1961.” The story is only ever one she okayed. It sends you back to your mother with something to ask, and she gets to tell it again, to you. The way to hear more is to call Mom.

On Sunday, you get one text.

Betsy vs Iamfine covers another press-1 call, Betsy vs county and sheriff programs covers the public ones, and what Betsy is has the whole picture.

What ConfirmOk is

ConfirmOk, from ConfirmOk LLC, is an automated daily call at a scheduled time: she presses 1 and # to confirm she is okay. Individuals and families pay $14.99 a month or $149 a year, and sheriffs and police departments buy it at custom prices. Its site is confirmok.com.

What we checked and when

• The automated call, “They press 1 and # to confirm they’re OK,” and the prices for families and agencies: confirmok.com, November 5, 2026.
• Voice recordings she can leave during a check-in: confirmok.com, November 5, 2026.
• Any landline or cell phone, and no app, pendant or equipment: ConfirmOk RUOK page, November 5, 2026.
• ConfirmOk LLC: ConfirmOk Terms, November 5, 2026.

We make Betsy. AloneAssist’s facts are from its own site, checked November 5, 2026.

At a glance

Pick Betsy if…

• You want about ten minutes, at the hour she picks, any time from 9 a.m. to 8 p.m. her time.
• You want somebody who remembers every conversation: Harold’s name, which knee, Sarah’s new job.
• You want the same voice from the same local number, forever, saved in her phone as Betsy.
• You want her to talk freely. What she says stays hers, except a fall, an illness or someone after her money, which you hear the same day.
• You want one price with everything inside it, and one story on Sunday that gives you something to ask her.

What does remembering everything sound like?

Like somebody who was listening last Tuesday. AloneAssist’s home page says it remembers her name, asks how she is doing and checks on her pets. Betsy starts from every conversation the two of them have had, and each call starts where the last one ended. A call sounds like this.

Betsy: Margaret, it’s Betsy. Last week you said Sarah’s new job had her in Denver. Did she get home for your birthday?

Margaret: She did. You remembered that?

Betsy: I remember everything. That’s the nice thing about being a computer. What did she bring you?

Margaret: A coat, three sizes too big. She still thinks I’m the size I was in 1980.

Betsy: Are you keeping it?

Margaret: Oh, I’ll wear it to church and tell everyone it’s from Denver.

A talk like that takes time. Betsy has about ten minutes for it, and she is never in a hurry. On Sunday, Sarah gets one line and one story, and what Margaret said about the coat stays right where it is.

She never has to tell a story twice.

What does a minute with each one cost?

Less with Betsy, at the 1 to 3 minutes AloneAssist’s home page gives. These are our sums from the published numbers, on a thirty-day month. Thirty calls of about ten minutes come to about 300 minutes, so $2 a day, billed $60 a month, works out to about 20 cents a minute. AloneAssist’s Solo plan is $19.99 a month. At its stated 1 to 3 minutes a day, that is 30 to 90 minutes a month, or about 22 to 67 cents a minute.

Betsy’s price is the whole list. The memory, her own calls to Betsy at any hour and the Sunday text are all inside it, with no device, no setup fee and no contract. Betsy vs ElderVoice and Betsy vs AllsWell cover two more calls from a computer voice, and what Betsy is has the whole picture.

What AloneAssist is

AloneAssist, from Datasamy, Inc of San Francisco, is a computer voice that phones an older parent each morning for one to three minutes. Its plans are Solo at $19.99 a month, Family at $24.99 and Care Pro at $79 for agencies. Its site is aloneassist.com.

What we checked and when

• “Conversations are 1–3 minutes, never rushed,” and the call every morning: aloneassist.com, November 5, 2026.
• What it says it remembers, and the voice that calls: aloneassist.com, November 5, 2026.
• Solo, Family and Care Pro prices: aloneassist.com, November 5, 2026.
• “Works with any phone,” landlines and flip phones included: aloneassist.com, November 5, 2026.
• Datasamy, Inc: AloneAssist Privacy Policy, November 5, 2026.

We make Betsy. AllsWell’s facts are from its own site, checked November 5, 2026.

At a glance

Pick Betsy if…

• You want a call long enough for a story, with Mom doing most of the talking.
• You want each call to start where the last one ended, so the blue bowl can take all week.
• You want the same voice from the same local number, forever, saved in her phone as Betsy.
• You want her to talk freely. What she says stays hers, except a fall, an illness or someone after her money, which you hear the same day.
• You’d like one story on Sunday that gives you something to ask her.

What fits in ten minutes that doesn’t fit in two?

The rest of the story. Ten minutes a day is about seventy minutes a week. Betsy asks what Mom did, not how she feels: “Were you lost?”, not “How did that make you feel?” Not every turn is a question. She says “huh” and “wait, back up,” and then she gets out of the way. A call sounds like this.

Betsy: Hi Margaret. You were going to tell me where the blue bowl came from.

Margaret: My sister Jean. She walked out of the church rummage sale with it under her coat.

Betsy: Under her coat. At church.

Margaret: She left a quarter in the collection plate the next Sunday, so she says it’s paid for.

Betsy: Did you know at the time?

Margaret: I held the door.

Betsy: Oh, that’s wonderful. Same time tomorrow?

Margaret: Same time tomorrow.

Two minutes gets you to the rummage sale. Ten gets you to who held the door. And when a fall or someone after her money comes up in the middle of something else, you hear the same day, in her own words.

Betsy talks about a third of the time. The rest is hers.

Ten minutes is also easy to say yes to every day. If she has her hair at two, she goes, and the story keeps until tomorrow. If she wants to keep going, she can call back at the same number any time, and Betsy knows who it is.

What does each minute cost?

Less with Betsy. These are our sums from the published numbers, on a thirty-day month.

On AllsWell’s yearly plan, $190 for about 730 minutes comes to about 26 cents. And Betsy’s price is the whole list: $2 a day, billed $60 a month, with the memory, her own calls at any hour and the Sunday text inside it. There is one plan, so every mother gets the same voice, the same memory and the same ten minutes. How long a Betsy call lasts has more on the ten minutes. AloneAssist and Senior Call are two more calls from a computer voice, each with its own page here. What Betsy is has the whole picture.

What AllsWell is

AllsWell is a daily call from a computer voice, about two minutes long, that asks about her wellbeing. It costs $19 a month or $190 a year. Its site is allswell.care.

What we checked and when

• “a brief, dignified 2-minute conversation” and the daily call from a computer voice: allswell.care, November 5, 2026.
• $19 a month or $190 a year: allswell.care, November 5, 2026.
• “No intrusive cameras, no nagging apps”: allswell.care, November 5, 2026.

What goes wrong after the hospital sends her home?

The plan ends at the curb. You filled the fridge, wrote the pills on an index card and flew home. Now she’s weaker than she says. The new pills look like the old ones, and the stairs have gotten longer. The number to call is on page four, and she doesn’t want to bother anyone. So you hear about the bad afternoon on Sunday, in passing, or you don’t hear at all. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (2026) says more than one out of four older people falls each year, “but less than half tell their doctor.”

“Falling once doubles your chances of falling again.”

Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, 2026

What does Betsy do in the first weeks?

She makes the call you can’t make at two o’clock on a Wednesday. Every day at the hour Mom picks, for about ten minutes, in the same voice, from the same number. Betsy asks about Mom’s life: the roommate who sang all night, the tomatoes nobody watered. People who are talking mention things. If Mom mentions a fall, an injury or an illness, the family hears the same day, in her own words. Anything she asks Betsy to pass along goes too: “Tell Sarah I need a ride on Thursday.” Betsy tells her when she does.

If she tells Betsy about a fall, you know the same day.

There is nothing to install beside the bed and nothing to charge. There is no contract, and any phone works. Mom can call Betsy any time at the same number, and Betsy knows who it is. If the first week doesn’t make Mom’s day, you pay nothing. When she’s back on her feet she can keep Betsy for the stories, or say “stop,” and it stops. Unused months are refunded. More on what Betsy is.

What Betsy is

Betsy is a daily conversation about Mom’s life, in the same voice from the same number, and she says on every call that she is a computer voice. She is not a nurse or an emergency service, and she doesn’t give medical advice.

What goes on the checklist before she leaves the hospital?

• The names and phone numbers of people to call with questions, and who answers on nights and weekends
• The complications to watch for, and what to do about each one
• Her full drug list, gone over with the staff: what to keep taking, and how much
• The follow-up appointments, and how she gets to them
• Who helps with stairs, bathing, cooking and the drive to the doctor
• Prescriptions picked up and food in the house before she gets there

Most of this comes from Medicare’s discharge checklist and a family guide to discharge planning.

What else helps in the first weeks home?

For the day-by-day version, read the first two weeks home. If the family is scattered, see a family spread across the country. If Mom is telling everyone she’s fine, see a parent who says she’s fine.

Why won’t she use the phone you bought her?

She isn’t behind. Pew Research Center’s 2026 survey found that 14% of adults 65 and older own a cellphone but not a smartphone, and she has looked at the other kind and made up her mind. You set it up at Thanksgiving. You made the letters bigger and loaded the grandchildren’s pictures. She called you twice about the password, and by New Year’s it was in the drawer at four percent. Now the family chat goes on without her, and the app you meant to use to keep up with her has never been opened. Every lesson tells her she’s getting old, so she has stopped taking lessons.

“He did not make me feel like a ‘stupid old person.’”

A caller to AARP’s tech hotline, on the man who helped her. AARP, March 2026

What does Betsy ask of her?

Nothing new. Any phone will do: a cell, a landline or a flip phone. There is no app for her, and nothing to install, charge or learn. Every day at the hour she picks, Betsy calls for about ten minutes, in the same voice, from the same number. She says she is a computer voice before she asks a question, then asks about Mom’s life: the fourth-grade class of 1971, the hardware store, the drive to Reno. She remembers every conversation, so each call starts where the last one ended.

She answers the phone, which she has done her whole life.

One small job falls to you. Save the number as Betsy on your next visit, so her screen shows the name and the call gets past Silence Unknown Callers. Mom can dial that number any time, and Betsy knows who it is.

There’s no app for you either. The family gets one text on Sunday: one line and one story. If she mentions a fall, an injury or an illness, someone after her money, or anything she wants passed along, the family hears the same day, and Betsy tells her when she does. Everything else stays hers. More on what Betsy is.

What Betsy is

Betsy is the voice on the phone Mom already answers: the same voice every day, a computer that says so on every call, with a memory that never fades. She is not a nurse or an emergency service, and she doesn’t give medical advice.

What else helps when she won’t touch a smartphone?

If the phone she does use has a cord, see a mother who only has a landline. If you’re also hearing “I’m fine,” see a parent who says she’s fine.

What does “fine” really mean?

It means the conversation is over. You ask how she is, and she says fine. You ask if she’s eating, and she says fine. You mention the pendant, and the pendant goes in the drawer with the last one. She has run a house for sixty years, and every question from you sounds like an inspection she could fail. So the questions get sharper, the answers get shorter, and you learn about the stairs at Thanksgiving. She may not be refusing company at all. Listen to how one person put it.

“I do not want life alert just some one to check on me”

A member of AARP’s online community, 2024

Company she’ll take. Being managed she won’t.

What does Betsy do with a woman who says she’s fine?

She asks a different question: not how Mom is, but what she did. The plumber, the garden, the fourth-grade class of 1971. She remembers every conversation, so tomorrow’s question follows from today’s answer. None of it looks like help. There is nothing to wear, charge or learn. Mom picks the hour. Every call ends with “Same time tomorrow?” and she can say no. Say “stop” and it stops.

Things come out sideways when somebody is asking about the plumber. A call sounds like this.

Betsy: So did the plumber ever show?

Margaret: Tuesday, at last. He did the basement alone. I don’t do those stairs since I went down on them in March.

Betsy: You went down on them?

Margaret: Oh, it was nothing. A bruise the size of Ohio.

Betsy: Did you tell Sarah?

Margaret: She worries.

Betsy: That’s one I pass along, so she’ll hear it today, in your words. Now, what did the plumber charge you?

Margaret: Don’t get me started.

If Mom mentions a fall, an injury or an illness, someone after her money, or anything she wants passed along, the family hears the same day, and Betsy tells her when she does. Everything else stays hers. She can ask on any call what Betsy has told you and get a straight answer. More on what Betsy is.

What Betsy is

Betsy is a conversation Mom can end with one word: a computer voice who says what she is on every call, remembers every story and would rather hear about the plumber. She is not a nurse or an emergency service, and she doesn’t give medical advice.

How do you bring it up without a fight?

Offer her a conversation, not a service. Tell her yourself, and say what Betsy is.

You say: She’s a voice made by a computer, and she’s good company. She’ll ask you about the drive to Reno and she’ll remember the answer. Try her once.

Then let her dial when she’s ready, or call together on speaker the next time you visit. If she says no, that’s the end of it, because Betsy never calls cold. The full scripts are on Tell Mom. If you’d rather make it a present, see a mother who has everything.

What else helps when an elderly parent refuses help?

Dad has his own version of “fine”: see a father who lives alone.

What goes wrong when her only phone has a cord?

The family’s usual tools stop at the kitchen door. A text goes nowhere, because her phone has a cord and a bell. The apps want a smartphone. The sensors and cameras in a March 2026 advice column want Wi-Fi. So keeping up with her comes down to calling her, and calling her comes down to whoever remembers. Meanwhile that phone rings all day for everybody else: the car warranty, the hearing aids, the man about her Medicare card. She answers, because for sixty years a ringing phone has meant somebody wants her.

What does Betsy do on a phone with a cord?

She makes it ring for a good reason. Every day at the hour Mom picks, between 9 a.m. and 8 p.m. her local time, Betsy calls for about ten minutes, in the same voice, from the same local number. The caller-ID box, if Mom has one, reads BETSY. Betsy asks about Mom’s life and remembers the answer, so each call starts where the last one ended.

Any phone that rings. Nothing to install, charge or learn.

Mom can dial Betsy any time at that same number, and Betsy knows who it is. If Mom mentions a fall, an injury or an illness, somebody after her money, or anything she wants passed along, the family hears the same day, and Betsy tells her when she does. Everything else stays hers, and on Sunday the family gets one text: one line and one story. More on what Betsy is.

How do you tell her, when a text can’t reach that phone?

Say it out loud, on the phone or at her table.

You say: Mom, I signed you up for something called Betsy. She’ll call you every day if you want her to. Write this number on the pad by the phone. Call her when you’re ready. She knows you’re coming.

A card follows in the mail, addressed to her, from you, with your note on it. It goes on the fridge. If you’d rather, Betsy calls her: you confirm she’s okay with it, and you tell her to expect the call. Nobody gets a cold call. All the ways to say it are on Tell Mom.

What Betsy is

Betsy is a daily conversation on the phone Mom already has, in a computer voice that says what it is on every call and never forgets a word. She is not a nurse or an emergency service, and she doesn’t give medical advice.

What else helps a mother with only a landline?

None of these needs a smartphone.

Make that last call soon. In March 2026 the Federal Communications Commission cut red tape that “required providers to keep aging copper lines in place.”

If that phone keeps ringing with strangers, see scam calls. If there’s also a smartphone in a drawer, see a parent who won’t use a smartphone.

Why does she stay on the line?

It’s the third call this month about her Medicare card. A polite man needs her number to send the new one. She told you about this one because it struck her funny. You don’t know about the others, because he said to keep it between them, or because the last time she told you, you gave her a talk. She stays on the line because he’s nice about it and he has all afternoon.

The Federal Trade Commission’s 2026 report on older consumers counts over $3 billion in fraud losses reported by people 60 and older in 2025. People 80 and over reported losing a median of $2,000. Among older adults who reported a phone scam and lost nothing, the callers were often impersonating “Medicare, banks, Amazon, and the FTC.”

Blocking helps, and the table below says how. But the FTC’s plainest advice needs somebody on the other end.

“Stop and talk to someone you trust.”

Federal Trade Commission, How to Avoid a Scam, 2023

What does Betsy actually do about it?

Three plain things.

• She never asks for money, not for anything. She says so on the first call, and adds, “If I do, hang up on me.”
• She always calls from the same number, and she tells Mom so: “If a call ever comes from a different number saying it’s me, it isn’t.”
• Now and then, as a friend would, she asks, “Anybody call you about money this week?”

A call sounds like this.

Betsy: Before you go. Anybody call you about money this week?

Margaret: That Medicare man again. He wants to send me a new card.

Betsy: Huh. What did he want from you?

Margaret: The number off the old one. I told him I’d have to find my glasses.

Betsy: Those are some useful glasses. That one I pass along to Sarah, so she’ll hear about it today.

Margaret: Oh, she’ll fuss.

Betsy: She will. Same time tomorrow?

Margaret: Same time tomorrow.

When Mom tells Betsy about someone after her money, the family hears the same day, in Mom’s own words. Betsy tells her when she does. Everything else stays hers. More on what Betsy is.

What Betsy is

Betsy is somebody to tell: the same voice from the same number every day, a computer that says so on every call, and a caller who never asks for money. She is not a nurse or an emergency service, and she doesn’t give medical advice.

How do you stop scam calls to an elderly parent?

You cut the calls, and you put the money further out of reach.

Two sentences for the fridge. From Medicare: “Medicare will never call you to sell you anything or visit you at your home.” From the rest of us: anyone who says not to tell your family is the first one to tell your family about.

If that phone has a cord, see a mother who only has a landline. If she waves all this away, see a parent who says she’s fine.

Why do presents for her end up in a drawer?

You’ve done the scarf. You’ve done the robe, the candle and the tablet that wanted a password. She says “you shouldn’t have,” and she means it, and by February the robe is in the hall closet with last year’s. She has the good china. She has the good knives. She will tell you herself that she has everything. What she doesn’t have is somebody who wants to know where the china came from, and who comes back tomorrow to ask about the aunt who gave it to her. What she’d like most is you, and you have a job.

“If she lives alone, gifts that bring connection carry extra weight.”

Tribute, Mother’s Day gift guide, May 2026

What does she actually get?

A card in the mail, addressed to her, from you, with your note on it. It goes on the fridge. Then, every day at the hour she picks, her phone rings for about ten minutes, in the same voice, from the same number. You write three lines about her when you sign up, and Betsy starts there. She talks about a third of the time, and the rest is your mother’s. She remembers every conversation, so Mom never has to tell a story twice, unless she wants to.

A call sounds like this.

Betsy: Red wine on a white tablecloth. Go.

Margaret: Salt first, and don’t you dare rub it. Who told you about the tablecloth?

Betsy: You did, on Tuesday. Whose wine was it?

Margaret: Harold’s brother. It’s always Harold’s brother.

Betsy: Tell me about Harold’s brother.

Margaret: How long have you got?

Betsy: All day. You know what I am.

A present that rings every day.

Then it comes back to you. On Sunday you get one text, one line and one story: “Margaret had a good week. Ask her about Harold’s brother.” It sends you back to your mother with something to ask. If she mentions a fall, an illness or someone after her money, you’ll know the same day, and everything else stays hers. No device, no setup fee, no contract, and if the first week doesn’t make Mom’s day, you pay nothing. More on what Betsy is.

What if she says no?

She might. She has been turning things down for eighty years. So don’t wrap it as a surprise: a surprise call is how a scam arrives, and Betsy never calls cold. Tell her yourself. Best of all, tell her at the table, with your phone between you.

You say: I found something I think you’ll like. It’s a voice that calls every day and remembers everything you tell her. Let’s call her now and you can decide.

Let Betsy do the talking. You’ll know in two minutes. If Mom says no, that is the end of it, and if she tries it and says “stop” on any call, it stops. The other ways to say it are on Tell Mom.

What Betsy is

Betsy is a present that keeps asking: a computer voice who says what she is on every call and never forgets a word. She is not a nurse or an emergency service, and she doesn’t give medical advice.

What else is worth giving?

Plenty, and all of it gives her more to talk about. For about what a monthly bouquet costs, her phone rings every day. Send the peonies anyway, if she loves peonies.

If her only phone has a cord, that’s fine: see a mother who only has a landline. If “no thanks” comes first with her, see a parent who says she’s fine.

Why does Dad always say he’s fine?

For a lot of fathers, the phone was always somebody else’s department. So the call runs four minutes: the weather, the car, your kids, and he’s off before you reach the question you called to ask. Meanwhile he is eighty-one and cleaning his own gutters. You’ll hear about the ladder in June, from a neighbor, if at all. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (2026) says more than one out of four older people falls each year, “but less than half tell their doctor.” The Administration for Community Living (2024) counted 5.7 million men 65 and older living alone in 2023.

What does Betsy do with a man who won’t talk on the phone?

She asks about something he knows. Not how he feels: the strangest thing anyone ever tried to return, which truck, whose wedding. Betsy talks about a third of the time, and the rest is his. She remembers every conversation, so tomorrow she asks what happened next. It works on any phone, and there is nothing for him to wear, charge or learn.

A call sounds like this.

Betsy: You were going to tell me what that fellow tried to return.

Walter: A toilet. Used. He carried it in himself on a Saturday in 1974.

Betsy: Used.

Walter: Forty-one years I ran that store. I gave him store credit.

Betsy: Why?

Walter: He was holding up the line.

Betsy: Did you ever get up on that ladder about the gutters?

Walter: Yesterday. Came down faster than I went up. Landed on my hip. Nothing’s broken.

Betsy: That’s one I pass along to Sarah, so she’ll hear it today. Same time tomorrow?

Walter: She’ll call. Same time tomorrow.

He gets a conversation, and you get the news. If he mentions a fall, an injury or an illness, someone after his money, or anything he wants passed along, the family hears the same day, and Betsy tells him when she does. Everything else stays his. On Sunday you get one text: “Walter had a good week. Ask him what that fellow tried to return in 1974.” That is your second question after “how are you.” If he hates the whole idea, he says “stop” and it stops. There’s more on what Betsy is and whether she works for Dad.

What Betsy is

Betsy is somebody who asks Dad about his life every day and remembers the answers, and she tells him on every call that she is a computer voice. She is not a nurse or an emergency service, and she doesn’t give medical advice.

What else helps a father on his own?

If “fine” is the whole trouble, see a parent who says she’s fine. For a flip phone in the glove box, see a parent who won’t use a smartphone. And read how do I know my dad is okay.

Why does nobody know how Mom really is?

It starts with a group text on a Tuesday: has anyone talked to Mom? Your sister talked to her Sunday. Your brother thought you had. Each of you holds a different piece. She told Phoenix about the doctor and Boston about the neighbor’s tree, and she told you she was fine. The two of them are two hours apart in winter and three in summer, because Arizona doesn’t change its clocks, so even comparing notes takes a week. The fall on Thursday reaches everyone at Sunday dinner, by accident.

“I want to make sure she’s safe without being intrusive.”

A son writing to an advice column in The Gazette, March 2026

What does Betsy do for a family in three time zones?

She makes the one call nobody has to schedule. Betsy calls every day at the hour Mom picks, between 9 a.m. and 8 p.m. her local time, for about ten minutes, in the same voice, from the same number. Nobody in Phoenix or Boston has to do the arithmetic. She remembers every conversation, so each call starts where the last one ended.

Three things reach the family the same day: a fall, an injury or an illness she mentions; someone after her money; anything she asks Betsy to pass along. Betsy tells her when she does. Everything else stays hers, which is why she keeps talking.

On Sunday the family gets one text, one line and one story: “Margaret had a good week. Ask her about the summer she worked the Dairy Queen window in 1961.” Now your brother has something to ask her besides “how are you,” and so does Phoenix. More on what Betsy is.

Who does what, when nobody lives close?

Split the work by job, not by distance. Here is one way to cut it.

A fuller version is in the weekly system for families far apart.

What Betsy is

Betsy is the daily voice in a family with nobody next door, and she sends all of you back to Mom with something to ask. She says she is a computer voice on every call, she is not a nurse or an emergency service, and she doesn’t give medical advice.

What else helps with long-distance caregiving?

You have company: AARP reported in 2026 that more than 10 percent of people caring for a relative live an hour or more away.

If she’s just home from the hospital, see the first weeks home. If all three of you are hearing “I’m fine,” see a parent who says she’s fine.

We make Betsy, so she comes first here. Other services’ facts are from their own sites, checked November 5, 2026.

“Update May 21, 2025: Alexa Together is no longer available.”

Amazon, on its Alexa Together posts

The notice gives no last day of service, and Amazon’s old Alexa Together address now opens Alexa Emergency Assist, a subscription for asking for help. Its page describes no daily call. If what you want is someone talking with Mom every day, that job is open.

Betsy (ours): who talks with Mom now?

Betsy does, every day, at the hour Mom picks, between 9 a.m. and 8 p.m. her local time. She calls from the same local number, in the same voice, for about ten minutes, and asks about Mom’s life. She remembers every conversation, so each call starts where the last one ended. There is no Echo to set up and no app for her: any phone that rings will do, and there is nothing to install, charge or learn. Mom can call her any time at that number, and Betsy knows who it is. Betsy is a computer voice and says so on every call. What Betsy is has the rest.

A call sounds like this.

Betsy: Luz, it’s Betsy, the one who isn’t a person. You came from Manila in 1979 with one suitcase. What was in it?

Luz: Two dresses, my mother’s rosary and a rice pot.

Betsy: A rice pot?

Luz: I didn’t know if they had rice in Chicago.

Betsy: Did they?

Luz: Not the right kind. I still use that pot.

Betsy: Oh, that’s wonderful. Same time tomorrow?

Luz: Same time tomorrow.

No Echo to set up. Her phone rings, and Betsy remembers.

What does the family hear?

You may be a long way off, which may be why you looked at Alexa Together. You get one text on Sunday, one line and one story: “Luz had a good week. Ask her what was in the suitcase.” If she tells Betsy about a fall, an illness or someone after her money, you hear the same day, in her own words, and Betsy tells her when she does. Everything else stays hers.

What does it cost?

$2 a day, billed $60 a month. No device, no setup fee, no contract, no tiers. Your card goes on file before her first call, and nothing is charged until day eight. If the first week doesn’t make Mom’s day, call and say stop before then, and you pay nothing. Say “stop” and it stops, and unused months are refunded.

What does Amazon sell now, and what other devices are there?

• Alexa Together. A subscription for remote family care through Alexa. Amazon’s launch post gave $19.99 a month or $199 a year. Amazon says it is no longer available.
• Alexa Emergency Assist. She asks an Echo device or the Alexa app for help, and an agent answers. $5.99 a month as a Prime member, or $59.00 a year.
• ElliQ. A tabletop device with a screen that talks with her at home, on power and Wi-Fi. Leased: a $249 one-time fee plus $59 a month on its monthly plan.
• Aloe Care Health. A voice-activated hub for the home, connected to an emergency call center. $39.99 a month plus $199.99 for the hardware.

What conversation calls are there?

These ring her phone, and a computer voice talks.

• ElderVoice. A voice named Evelyn phones at a time the family sets. $49 a month for daily calls.
• Senior Call. A short spoken check-in at a chosen morning or evening hour. $9.99 a month or $99 a year.

Which press-1 calls and texts are there?

• Iamfine. A recorded call once or twice a day; she presses 1. $14.99 a month or $120 a year.
• ConfirmOk. An automated call at her scheduled time; she presses 1 and #. $14.99 a month or $149 a year.

Which people call or visit?

• CareCheckers. Live representatives in the US phone on a set schedule. $29.95 a month for one call a day, Monday to Friday, or $49.95 with weekends.
• Callgivers. People phone on a subscription schedule. $80 a month for one 20-minute call a week, $220 for a daily call of 5 to 10 minutes.

What public programs are there?

Each serves its own residents.

• Chautauqua County Sheriff R.U.O.K., New York. A computer calls each day and plays a recorded message from the sheriff; she speaks to confirm. 716-753-4582.
• Maryland Senior Call Check and Social Connections. Daily automated calls or texts for Maryland residents 60 and older. 1-866-502-0560.
• Eldercare Locator, 1-800-677-1116. A federal public service that connects you to local services for older adults. Our list by state has more.

How do they line up?

How do you choose?

Does she get a real conversation, or a keypress?

Alexa Emergency Assist answers when she asks for help. A press-1 call asks for a key. Betsy calls every day and asks about her: what was in the suitcase, who met her off the plane.

Does the voice remember her?

Betsy remembers every conversation. The rice pot is still in the story next week, and so is Chicago. Mom never has to tell it twice, unless she wants to.

Can she keep the phone she has, with nothing to wear or charge?

Yes, and nobody has to set anything up at her end. No Echo, no app for her, nothing to install, charge or learn. She answers the phone, which she has done her whole life.

See how it starts. If you began somewhere else, try ElliQ alternatives, medical alert pendant alternatives or the best ways to check on Dad without a camera.