Assisted Living

 “Old age is like climbing a mountain.  The higher you get, the more tired and breathless you become, but your view becomes more extensive. “Ingmar Bergman

 

Sixty years ago, if there were assisted living facilities for active seniors, I was unaware of them.  What I knew about were nursing homes for old people in need of professional care.  Both my grandmothers died before I was born, but great-aunt Ida lived with us until she suffered a stroke and my mother could no longer care for her, so she spent the rest of her days in a Lutheran nursing home in a room with numerous beds and chairs next to them for visitors or those patients able to sit in them. Very, very depressing.  After Grandpa Elwood had terminal cancer, he had a room in a former motel in Ambler near our home. I recall being with him after my dad (Vic) died at age 50 and Elwood saying that he wished it had been him.

 

After Midge remarried, she and Howard, eight years her senior, moved to an over-55 community in Florida. After Howard survived a brush with a serious illness, they moved into an assisted community that had a variety of options ranging from villas to apartments to suites to wards for the very ill. Still in her early 70s, Midge initially resented the cords on the walls that one could pull if suddenly disabled. They lived in a villa until Howard passed away at age 99.  A year or so later, Midge moved to an assisted living facility in Rancho Mirage, California. Because Howard had left her financially well off, she could afford a very nice place, with a hair salon, afternoon Happy Hour, Friday entertainment, and good meals.  I’d joke that by the time Baby Boomers reached old age, retirement communities would be swinging places, as they have indeed become if you can afford them.

 

During the current pandemic, some facilities for the elderly have become dangerous places where the disease has spread rapidly, often inflicting a death sentence on those with pre-existing health problems.  Seniors on cruise ships have found themselves adrift at sea as ports are reluctant to have them disembark.  Other facilities as yet unaffected are observing measures akin to quarantining to keep them safe. The daughter of a close friend in one such place posted a photo of her talking by phone to her mother outside her window. How sad for those with symptoms to be unable to have loved ones with them.

 

Other cultures have more respect than ours for the wisdom of the elderly, whose view of history has been broadened by experience. Those few folks left who lived through the Great Depression and World War II have lessons we could learn from if we tuned them in. As Andy Rooney once said, “The best classroom in the world is at the feet of an elderly person.”

 

Facebook posts can be comforting in times like these.  Examples I’ve enjoyed include things people have made (Kyle Telechan’s Italian bread, Anne Balay’s quilts), pets (Sam and Brenda Love’s cats, Cindy Bean’s dog), kids (belonging to Charles Halberstadt and Jerry Pierce), views near one’s home (Krista Donahue of the Delaware River, LeeLee Devenney of the Atlantic Ocean) and works of art (Liz Wuerrfel’s drawings, Gregg Hertzlieb’s paintings). Then, of course, there are the humorous sayings, political cartoons, and inspirational quotations, all easily passed over if not one’s liking.