If you’re in a grocery store and recognize a perky, red-haired octogenarian tooling around in a motorized cart, it’s OK to say hello. You can even request a selfie. In fact, please ask Pat Seftel, “Aren’t you that mom?” You’ll make her day.

It happens all the time, Pat says. She has become an unlikely icon because her son, multi-award-winning filmmaker and director Joshua Seftel, regularly shares their FaceTime conversations in segments for CBS News Sunday Morning. A new three- to four-minute chat between the Seftels airs every month or so, and between 5 million and 7 million viewers typically tune in to watch.

Pat and Josh started talking over FaceTime in 2010, shortly after Pat’s husband, obstetrician and gynecologist Dr. Leroy Seftel, died. The couple, who’d previously lived in Schenectady, New York, retired to Sarasota and moved here full-time in 2009. While Pat, 87, recently sold her Sarasota condo and is figuring out where she’ll live next, she says she loves Southwest Florida and will always maintain ties to the area.

Josh, who lives in Brooklyn, and his two older sisters, who live in Massachusetts and Maryland, wanted a way to stay in touch with their widowed mom. They gave Pat an iPad for her 70th birthday and Josh taught her to FaceTime. One of Pat’s favorite topics is movies, and Josh enjoyed their virtual chats so much that he began recording a web series about them. (He posted the first episode on YouTube when Pat was 75.) Eventually, Josh edited their clips for his contacts at CBS, where he’d produced news segments. Since 2013, the network has aired nearly 20 Seftel episodes.

Pat is a former psychiatric nurse and social worker specializing in drug and alcohol addiction who counted the late poet Ezra Pound among her patients. She’s charming, highly educated and, according to Josh, a good judge of people. She may appear naïve, but she tells it like it is. In fact, it’s rare that she has nothing to say about a topic.

“It’s fun to see what insights she has,” Josh says. “I can ask her about almost anything and she’s good off the cuff—twerking, Fifty Shades of Grey, dating, vaping, self-driving cars, life in quarantine.” Almost any subject he comes up with is fair game, except for politics.

“Too divisive,” Pat says, “and I don’t think I need to let everybody know what my choices are or why.”

When it comes to modern romance, Pat has no love for dating apps like Tinder. “What a crazy world,” she says. “That would make me feel like a piece of meat in the butcher case!” In her day, she says, courtship relied on friendly fixups and wholesome dances. Would she seek out a male companion at this stage? She considers this. “I’m used to my life now, but if a rich, handsome, nice man came along at age 90? It might be good while it lasts,” she says.

Fans shower her with glowing letters and gifts. Over the past couple of years, Pat has struggled with recovery from quadruple bypass heart surgery and other health issues, and she has difficulty walking. A male viewer sent her some of his homemade chicken soup. Another devotee mails notes with hand-drawn illustrations of her. She’s also received mahjong tiles.

“I’m pleased to entertain people, and it makes me happy, too,” Pat says. “Being recognized puts excitement into my life. But I’m not a celebrity. I’m just a mother.” When she returned to TV after a period of illness, CBS News Sunday Morning host Jane Pauley called Pat on-air to say how much everyone at CBS missed her. It was a teary moment.

“I can’t understand why people want to listen so much to what I have to say,” Pat says. “Sometimes they’ll chase me across a parking lot, come up to me, and say, ‘I really love the show, and I agree with you. You’re usually right on target. You have common sense.’ Maybe I think a lot like the people who are watching me. That’s all I can figure out.”

Although the calls started out as an experiment and weren’t intended for public consumption, seeing their popularity soar is rewarding for both Seftels. Josh proudly shows off his mom to an audience that often underestimates the elderly. “It’s so clear to me that people are starved for this kind of content,” he says. “They’re starved for a voice like Pat’s, and maybe they’re starved to see an intergenerational relationship like this between a child and a parent. They always say, ‘This makes me think of my mom. It makes me miss my parents.’”

Josh has advice for other adult children: Record your conversations with your parents. “It seems to make everyone bring their best self,” he says. “I think we’re more patient and open with each other, less critical. Try it and see if it changes things. It’s strengthened [my mom’s and my] relationship, and it’s something we both look forward to.

“The comments we get are generally favorable and kind, and I never worked on anything before that has such a high rate of positivity,” he continues. He also appreciates the validation his mom receives. “When you get to be 87,” he says, “a lot of people feel like they’re invisible, and Pat’s not.”

About Josh Seftel

Josh Seftel has been winning Oscar, Emmy and Peabody nominations and awards for his moving, thought-provoking films since the 1992 debut of his first documentary, Lost and Found, about Romanian orphans. Although he directed the first season of Queer Eye for the Straight Guy and has a talent for humorous projects, his films and essays often bring to light what he calls “dark” topics—from war to ugly politics, Islamophobia, terrorism and school shootings. He says his FaceTime videos with his mother Pat offer a welcome respite.

To keep up with the Seftels, follow Josh on Instagram @jrseftel.