from The Boston Globe, 10-14-19

Trump, Warren, Biden and Sanders are all in their 70s. Bernie just had a heart attack but “feels fine”. My father did too after his first one, until the big one came that killed him at age 76. Jimmy Carter, still swinging a hammer for Habitat for Humanity while battling cancer, aged 95, says they are all too old to be president. It is too demanding a job and you start to lose a step as you age. But how do we know? Everyone ages differently.

Despite Sanders’ recent health issues, he can verbally joust with the best of them and is the oldest of the group. Warren, too, has no problem keeping up with the rigors of debate or being on the campaign trail, standing for selfies with all comers. Biden can barely keep track of what he’s talking about, but is that new? Trump’s recent letter to Erdogan sounded like something written by a middle schooler (“Don’t be a tough guy. I’ll call you later”). Puleeze! The man can barely spell. And this, from the leader of the free world. He is an embarrassment (on so many levels). But is that age-related, or just his normal state of being?

I had two uncles in very senior positions at General Motors; one joined when the company was two years old and became treasurer, one came into the Treasurer’s office as a young man, hired two future Chairmen and rose to be comptroller. GM forcibly retired at the age of 65. The treasurer of GM remained active in charitable pursuits, the comptroller played golf until his death at the age of 94. Could they have been productive for years more? Probably.

My husband was incentivized to retire from Accenture (after the Andersen Consulting IPO) when he was 51 with a five year non-compete clause and Accenture held their stock, so it was enforceable. He was way too young to be side-lined.

A recent front page article in the Boston Globe (from which I took my Featured photo) talked about two gerontology PhD candidates from U Mass Boston who staged an intergenerational Happy Hour in a neighborhood in Boston as part of a social experiment to bring these diverse groups together. The aging population feels lonely and isolated and millennials have much to offer in terms of companionship, news and tech information and sometimes, just a friendly face. The PhD candidates hope to run a series of these Happy Hours around Boston to see if they can’t take hold, self-perpetuate, and create lasting friendships, ” honorary grandparent” status in some cases.

I have experienced a few of these myself through two different outlets. In the years leading up to my older son’s bar mitzvah, he had to do a “mitzvah project”; that is: many hours of social service. He chose to go to the Hebrew Rehab Center (now part of Hebrew Senior Life) in Roslindale and help take the elder population from their rooms to services on Saturday morning. Many were wheel-chair bound. He and I would wheel these folks to the chapel so they could participate in the Sabbath service, then wheel them back to their rooms at the end of the service. David and I would sometimes attend the service, but not always. As the weeks passed, we came to know one man quite well. He was always in good spirits, though blind, and liked our company. He had another torah student who also visited him regularly, but on weekdays. He looked forward to those visits too. That student was a year older than David and closer to his bar mitzvah. Sam really wanted to thank the other boy for all the kindness he had been shown and wanted to get the boy a  bar mitzvah gift. He asked my son for shopping advise. David and I huddled. How much did Sam want to spend? Could he get out or would someone else do the shopping for him (Sam had family members who would make the purchase, so that wasn’t an issue). We finally decided that one of the hand-held gaming systems was just the ticket and told Sam that the next time we visited. His face lit up. He knew that was a great suggestion, asked us to write down all the specifics, which we did and he made the purchase. He couldn’t wait to tell us how the other boy LOVED his present the next time we visited. We knew we had done our good deed. David had long ago fulfilled his required hours for his social justice mission and Sam was weakening. We didn’t see Sam again, but we knew we had helped him on his way.

I moved my mother from the Detroit area to North Hill, a life-care community twenty minutes from me when she was 82 years old. She lived another 15 1/2 years. We did not have an easy relationship, but I took care of her for the remainder of her life. The last 2 1/2 years were spent in skilled nursing where she received terrific care. I developed a close relationship with the activities director and the music coordinator. I would come in a few times a year and sing Broadway show tunes for the residents, many of whom were beyond caring. We were trying to entertain and engage. Carolyn, the music coordinator, and I worked on a comfortable play list, practiced a bit and had our show set. The songs were familiar to everyone there. I would start with “Put on a Happy Face”, “Doe a Deer”, “I Feel Pretty”, “Wouldn’t It Be Loverly”, “Edelweiss”, “I Enjoy Being a Girl” (I know…so unliberated; remember the audience), “I Can’t Say No”, “Oklahoma”, and always end with “Let Me Entertain You”. I would introduce each song, talk about the show it came from. if people were really engaged, some would sing along. I’d flit around and encourage them to join me. My mother just beamed with excitement. One man played bongos if he could. The point was engagement.

I also came in and explained Chanukkah, read from a few stories and helped the staff pass out latkes. My mother passed away in August, 2010, but I continued to come in for Chanukkah for the next five years. As Carolyn said, others say they will come back, but I did. The place took great care of my mother. I was happy to return the favor. They did a major renovation and reorganization the following year. Carolyn retired and with her, my link to the social fabric of North Hill, so I am no longer invited back, but offering a kind hand or a sympathetic ear to a senior (well, I’m a senior now, but not living like one) is something we all can do and would go a long way to making the world a less-alienated place in which to live.

Did my son’s social service, or my helping at North Hill relate to ageism? I think it did. Neither of us were hiring or firing our elders. We were making them feel comfortable and valued, no matter how old or enfeebled they were. Isn’t that what we ultimately all want from life?

Betsy Pfau
Retired from software sales long ago, two grown children. Theater major in college. Singer still, arts lover, involved in art museums locally (Greater Boston area). Originally from Detroit area.