It’s surprising—the fact that, though everyone has their own individual life paths, we all existed here at the Mary and Gary Senior and Wellness Center on the same morning of the same Wednesday in January. For much of my upbringing, I’ve had a bit of a contentious relationship with the older people in my life because we shared different values. As I grew older, I tried to rationalize my experiences to find peace, finally deciding that my authority figures simply grew up in a different time and that they are a product of their time which has led them to hold values different from mine. As I waded through the lunch hall of the Mary and Gary lunchroom, I felt a bit socially overwhelmed. Every which way I wandered, I nervously locked eyes with curious glances which I didn’t quite know how to interpret. I now understand that my hesitations were a bit of a mental blockade, or rather a worry that the stories behind the eyes I made contact with would find me unrelatable or detached from their own lived experiences. After all, I’d simply assumed it was a fact of life that older adults were different people shaped by different times and different experiences. Yet here we all were. In the same brightly lit dining hall, breathing the same air underneath the tall ceilings, and listening to the gentle shuffling of kitchen staff as they prepared lunchtime meals. Perhaps we are not so different after all? Perhaps just by simply sharing our existence in this eclectic space, I shared more similarities with these folks than I’d let myself to believe. I let go and the conversations flowed.
First it was a superficial similarity.
“I am Chinese. Are you Chinese too?” One woman asked me. We’re both Chinese!
“Yes, but I was born here. My mom is from the city of ShenZhen and I went to kindergarten there,” I replied.
“What district? I’m from ShenZhen as well, from NanShan District.” No way. We both have connections to ShenZhen and for whatever personal reasons, we both ended up in San Diego. Then I learned I had similar life reflections with some of the people I spoke with. I’d noticed that another senior expressed his gratitude by saying how “blessed” he feels. I asked if perhaps he was a religious man since my father is staunchly religious himself, but to my surprise he responded to my yes or no question with a question of his own: “What do you mean by that? A lot of people have different interpretations of what it means to be religious.” What! That was not a response I anticipated. After my brain briefly short-circuited, we began to share how strict religious adherence defined our upbringing. I listened to him describe the difficulty he had coming to terms with his parent’s own beliefs on his life as a result of their own upbringing, and listened to how he rediscovered his spiritual beliefs on his own terms. It felt like he was narrating the stream of consciousness I discussed with myself on my own journey.
I wanted to become a Life Course Scholar so that I could learn of different perspectives, learn from different perspectives, and appreciate those perspectives. I didn’t realize that this would only be the first step. In our class reading “Happiness is a Choice You Make,” John Leland weaves life insight from various elderly neighbors to help him to reflect on his own life purpose. In these 3 weeks I’ve learned I have to actively reframe my own perspective so that I do not ‘other’ the same people I want to connect with. Learning is a bit of a two way street that takes self-reflection in addition to reflecting new ways I learn about the reality of the world.
First it was a superficial similarity.
“I am Chinese. Are you Chinese too?” One woman asked me. We’re both Chinese!
“Yes, but I was born here. My mom is from the city of ShenZhen and I went to kindergarten there,” I replied.
“What district? I’m from ShenZhen as well, from NanShan District.” No way. We both have connections to ShenZhen and for whatever personal reasons, we both ended up in San Diego. Then I learned I had similar life reflections with some of the people I spoke with. I’d noticed that another senior expressed his gratitude by saying how “blessed” he feels. I asked if perhaps he was a religious man since my father is staunchly religious himself, but to my surprise he responded to my yes or no question with a question of his own: “What do you mean by that? A lot of people have different interpretations of what it means to be religious.” What! That was not a response I anticipated. After my brain briefly short-circuited, we began to share how strict religious adherence defined our upbringing. I listened to him describe the difficulty he had coming to terms with his parent’s own beliefs on his life as a result of their own upbringing, and listened to how he rediscovered his spiritual beliefs on his own terms. It felt like he was narrating the stream of consciousness I discussed with myself on my own journey.
I wanted to become a Life Course Scholar so that I could learn of different perspectives, learn from different perspectives, and appreciate those perspectives. I didn’t realize that this would only be the first step. In our class reading “Happiness is a Choice You Make,” John Leland weaves life insight from various elderly neighbors to help him to reflect on his own life purpose. In these 3 weeks I’ve learned I have to actively reframe my own perspective so that I do not ‘other’ the same people I want to connect with. Learning is a bit of a two way street that takes self-reflection in addition to reflecting new ways I learn about the reality of the world.