You may not be one now. But you probably know an older adult. What makes them 'older'? Is there a certain threshold? I wouldn't think there should be, but by most Federal standards 65 seems to be the number that sticks.
As we age our bodies change. The processes of renewal slow, our minds begin to wander, and sometimes the abilities of our neurons to connect fail to fire in the way they used to.
I've had the honor and privilege to spend countless hours with older adults, starting when I was 17 and picked up a gig serving at the retirement home near my high school. I was brave enough to stick it out, even after all the times I brought out the wrong order, or skipped a table on accident. The seven years I spent at Meadowlark Estates were some of the most fruitful years of my life because I never felt like I had a shortage of family support. Over servings of oatmeal, shepherd's pie, and sugar-free vanilla ice cream, I got to know those residents better than most of my classmates in school. And it wasn't because I didn't like people my age--I just enjoyed the stories and jokes of those old folks a lot more.
As I transitioned into living in Minneapolis last year, I was forced to leave that support network behind. My first year in Minnesota was rocky, to say the least, but I gradually worked up the confidence to say 'Yes. I am going to make volunteering a mainstay of my life again.' Little did I know that it would bring me to back to elders once again, through Cycling Without Age. CWA is an organization that is ahead of its time in reducing the effects of isolation in older adults by providing a way for residents of assisted living facilities to get out and about on a motorized trishaw. I have been lucky enough to serve as a Pilot over the past several months, and could not have foreseen the way it's improved my quality of life.
Every afternoon I spend with the residents is a gentle reminder that our mental and physical capabilities should never be taken for granted. That one day we too will need someone's help, even if it's just going to the restroom. I think it's painful for many of us to think about these days. We don't want to admit that some day the things that used to come to us so easily will suddenly feel like climbing a mountain.
Today I arrived at my shift so excited about the warm weather that I didn't remember the riding season had ended. Yet, instead of going home, I decided to stick around for a walk with the residents and a cup of hot coffee afterwards. It felt so natural to offer the others a drink, ask them for cream, sugar, and a stir stick. And I saw things in those moments of transition and stillness that I wouldn't have if I had left.
What is it that I felt when I was there today? What did I see?
I saw a man with a brilliant smile, legs turned at odd angles, walker in the corner.
I saw a man whose dementia requires a constant reminder of the direction and the place he's headed.
I saw a tiny pup whose turds were stuck to her bum and needed cut off.
I saw varying levels of speed. Speed that tells your age in the way our eyes dart from here to there, and bodies moving so fast they push the air around us and make the surroundings flutter.
I saw cribbage.
I saw a woman without a friend whose grew up on a farm in Wisconsin.
I saw my parents reflected in the eyes of those who stared back at me; someone who I would be caring for in the future.
I felt their isolation and wondered what it would be like if this energy--this sense of scatteredness weren’t so concentrated in these homes--what would our communities look like if this energy was diffuse?
What if, as an older adult, we were supported by a small network of people who shared the responsibility for different aspects of our lives? Guided to where they needed to go and right at home in any place in the community. Absent strange looks.
As our communities age, we can’t keep putting people away. We need a more dignified way of allowing our families, friends, and neighbors to age and be supported all along the way. We need a stronger fabric pulling threads from all over to make it not only safe for them, but everyone in the community.
These moments bring me a feeling of sadness because it reminds me of how often I take for granted my own capabilities. But they also bring me strength because I realize how much progress there is yet to make in this field of work and that we have so much opportunity to do better.
As much as we tend to focus on the younger generation, I urge you to consider the elders as well, and what contributions they can make to our quality of life. I bet there's at least one out there right now who would benefit from your companionship.
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