“Ask me another one!” Helen* said, smiling ear-to-ear as she took another bite of her lemon cake slice. I quickly reached for another red conversation card and read aloud, “What did you daydream about when you were younger?”
Helen* didn’t hesitate for a second before responding. “Being older.”
In our youth, we are so eager to feel grown up. At age 10 I remember sitting under the monkey bars and counting down the years until I could be a high schooler (just the term sounded so fancy). I fantasized about opening the combination padlock to my locker, shoving my textbooks inside, and grabbing my car keys to drive off school grounds for a meal. Fast forward a handful of years: my high school didn’t have lockers, and we weren’t allowed to leave school grounds for lunch. At age 17 I wished I could be 10 years old, falling off the monkey bars during recess.
Our 20s are supposedly the only years in which we are beautiful, intelligent, sharp, and able-bodied. I realized I had internalized some of this narrative—on my 20th birthday, I felt a weird sense of melancholy. The past few weeks of LCS have centered around the internalization of these ageist stereotypes and the importance of creating supportive, well-integrated communities to support elder health. In “Happiness is a Choice You Make”, the quote that stuck with me the most was the following: “A long-term survey of people in Ohio found that those who had positive perceptions of aging, measured by whether they agreed or disagreed with statements like ‘As you get older, you are less useful’, went on to live an average of 7.5 years longer, a bigger boost than that associated with exercising or not smoking.” The amount of negative stereotypes surrounding aging, such as those related to cognitive and physical decline, are what harm elder health more than the aging process itself.
This past Saturday, 2/11, was our Love, Connect, Care event at the West Center, where my group set up a table of conversation prompts to learn more about the individual life stories of attendees. The boost of energy the seniors received from painting, eating, shopping, and conversing in a community space was evident. Recently in a class reading I learned about the Okinawan concept of a moai, a tight-knit social support group formed in childhood that regularly meet “for a common purpose” (gossip and chit-chat, advice, support, or general companionship) throughout the entire life course. The community and sense of second family found in a moai greatly contribute to the extended lifespan of Okinawan elders. I’m interested in learning more about whether there are feasible ways for us to incorporate a similar system in the U.S., or ways to design age-friendly housing and infrastructure to support formation of local social groups.
What a tragedy it would be if the myths about our 20s were true – if a decade tucked into the first quarter of our time on earth accounted for almost all of its significance. I can’t wait to gain the wisdom and perspective that accompanies aging, but at the same time, I’m not hyper-excited to age in the same way I was as a child. The best thing I can do for myself is relinquish fear, ditch the idea of “the perfect 20s”, and appreciate each stage of life for what it is.
*Pseudonym for anonymity
Helen* didn’t hesitate for a second before responding. “Being older.”
In our youth, we are so eager to feel grown up. At age 10 I remember sitting under the monkey bars and counting down the years until I could be a high schooler (just the term sounded so fancy). I fantasized about opening the combination padlock to my locker, shoving my textbooks inside, and grabbing my car keys to drive off school grounds for a meal. Fast forward a handful of years: my high school didn’t have lockers, and we weren’t allowed to leave school grounds for lunch. At age 17 I wished I could be 10 years old, falling off the monkey bars during recess.
Our 20s are supposedly the only years in which we are beautiful, intelligent, sharp, and able-bodied. I realized I had internalized some of this narrative—on my 20th birthday, I felt a weird sense of melancholy. The past few weeks of LCS have centered around the internalization of these ageist stereotypes and the importance of creating supportive, well-integrated communities to support elder health. In “Happiness is a Choice You Make”, the quote that stuck with me the most was the following: “A long-term survey of people in Ohio found that those who had positive perceptions of aging, measured by whether they agreed or disagreed with statements like ‘As you get older, you are less useful’, went on to live an average of 7.5 years longer, a bigger boost than that associated with exercising or not smoking.” The amount of negative stereotypes surrounding aging, such as those related to cognitive and physical decline, are what harm elder health more than the aging process itself.
This past Saturday, 2/11, was our Love, Connect, Care event at the West Center, where my group set up a table of conversation prompts to learn more about the individual life stories of attendees. The boost of energy the seniors received from painting, eating, shopping, and conversing in a community space was evident. Recently in a class reading I learned about the Okinawan concept of a moai, a tight-knit social support group formed in childhood that regularly meet “for a common purpose” (gossip and chit-chat, advice, support, or general companionship) throughout the entire life course. The community and sense of second family found in a moai greatly contribute to the extended lifespan of Okinawan elders. I’m interested in learning more about whether there are feasible ways for us to incorporate a similar system in the U.S., or ways to design age-friendly housing and infrastructure to support formation of local social groups.
What a tragedy it would be if the myths about our 20s were true – if a decade tucked into the first quarter of our time on earth accounted for almost all of its significance. I can’t wait to gain the wisdom and perspective that accompanies aging, but at the same time, I’m not hyper-excited to age in the same way I was as a child. The best thing I can do for myself is relinquish fear, ditch the idea of “the perfect 20s”, and appreciate each stage of life for what it is.
*Pseudonym for anonymity