Late Life in the Lonely Lane

Again it is the first Wednesday of the month, time for a tip of the hat to the Insecure Writers Support Group. With that comes the opportunity to address this month's IWSG question......With that comes the opportunity to address this month's IWSG question......"Besides writing, what other creative outlets do you have?"

     Truth is, at my age, in the November of life, I have few other creative outlets and am not actively looking for more. Writing, be it books or blogs, seems the perfect venue for me……allowing me the freedom to go where I want, say what I want, explore what I want, even create the future I want……all of it limited only by my imagination. 

As an October/November writer I am provided endless possibilities to explore the bits of real life, especially late-life reality, that mean the most to me. Writing provides a structured process for consolidating my sometimes disparate thoughts, while demanding the discipline that comes with putting those thoughts into words. 
     Best of all, I can do all that from the comfort of my recliner or computer. What is not to like? Case in point.......today's post. I call it LATE-LIFE IN THE LONELY LANE. I hope it rings true to you.

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Lots of us know all about October, and perhaps November too. We spent decades working toward what they call the Golden Years......when we could live out the dreams we had set aside for so long. Fortunately  many of our generation, with the help of Social Security, generous pensions, Medicare, and IRAs, have found at least some of the gold in those Golden Years.

What could possibly be wrong with that rosy picture? We like to think that we have earned the right to a comfortable retirement. After all, we have played the game according to the rules and deserve the fruits of our labors. Just look at the world around you. Everywhere you turn you see seniors taking advantage of their hard work and good fortune.

And you would be right about that……at least partially. But at the same time you might be overlooking the growing number of our late-life peers for whom the ‘Golden Years’ will mean something very different.

For instance, I refer you to a recent issue of This Week magazine, and an article titled “An Epidemic of Loneliness,” which paints a decidedly distressing picture of the reality facing a sizable segment of American society, especially what it calls the 'Senior Boomers.' It claims that according to social-science researchers Loneliness ……defined as “having fewer social contacts and meaningful relationships than we want,” is a significant cultural condition, especially among the elderly.

According to the research they cite nearly half of Americans feel alone or left out. One in eight of our citizens report that they know zero people well. Some experts go so far as to claim that the nation’s most common pathology is 'loneliness.'

A closer look at the situation facing our October/November peers reveals even more daunting detail. In the course of their adult life Baby Boomers have had fewer children and more divorces than their parents, leaving more of them without companionship in old age. Even when there are children involved, they are apt to be spread far and wide across the country. As a result of those and other factors one in six Senior Boomers live alone.

But those sad facts are simply a matter of numbers, of statistics. And you know what they say about statistics……”You can make them say anything you want.” Yet in the end what really matters is not gaudy charts and sterile numbers, but the soul-deep impact on individual lives.

For years I have made the point that late-life, our October and November Years, works best as a shared effort, when two or more persons…… be they friends, lovers, family, or caregivers……face that sometimes harsh time together. I have written whole books making that case, following my Tanner friends as they stumble toward the relationships they hope will support them in those trying times.

In previous posts I have referred to those lonely seniors as Elder Orphans. The first time I heard that description it had the ring of an epiphany……a striking, suddenly-revealed truth. In two short words it seemed to capture the essence of a wide-spread late-life crisis, one we see all around us.

Elder Orphans, like their infant counterparts, are literally on their own at a very vulnerable time of life……and just as much in need of caring support. Chances are they are socially and physically isolated, living without a family member or surrogate. They are often depressed, and sometimes dealing with the loss of decision-making capabilities. To make matters worse they are seldom acknowledged as a group or class that needs help.

So what does the future hold for that elder orphan population? By all accounts their numbers are increasing, and the demand for the help they need grows accordingly. According to current trends, over time more of them will need more help for a longer period of time. 
A recent AARP report offers little solace, confirming that demand for elder caregivers continues to grow faster than the supply. In the face of funding shortfalls and rapidly increasing costs Caregiver per Orphan ratios are steadily declining across the country. Being an Elder Orphan is not about to get any easier.

I realize that my Tanner Chronicles stories ……fictional accounts of fictional situations……are one thing. Actually being an Elder Orphan, living that life, is something very different. Still, that reality is something that you and I can play a part in addressing.

You see, most of us can identify one or more elder orphans. They sit in the midst of our congregations. We pass them shuffling behind their walker in the supermarket aisle, or rub elbows with them at the senior center. You are apt to find them in hospital emergency rooms, often their only source of the health care most of us take for granted. They are, in fact, everywhere……out of sight right before our eyes.

As for myself, I hope I can be observant enough and bold enough to spot the elder orphans who cross my path. I need to acknowledge their place in my world, and perhaps take the time to hear a bit of their story. That’s an important thing, showing them that for at least a few minutes someone cares enough to listen. There are so many folks out there who need that casual gift ……the simple act of acknowledging and affirming their presence. Isn’t that what every orphan wants, no matter what his or her’s age? 

I could end this post right there. But the writer in me has me returning to an earlier post, where I used the following scene from Best Friends and Promises to depict the November life of Johnny Blanton, one of my favorite Tanner friends. Johnny lives in a low-cost, county-owned apartment, surrounded by neighbors who scarcely acknowledge his presence. Though he would be unwilling to admit as much, (Truth is he would scream like hell.), in many important ways he has become an orphan. You tell me, is this a viable depiction of an Elder Orphan?

  For all his gregarious instincts Johnny Blanton led a spartan, decidedly-isolated existence, the unfortunate result of circumstances over which he had little control.
     In the course of his four-year residency in the County-operated Senior Housing Complex he had concluded that his neighbors, as a group, suffered from a multitude of shared failings. To a person they were old, financially strapped, grouchy, and judgmental. Most depressing of all, not one of them appeared to subscribe to his long-cultivated interest in having a good time.

Wary, unsmiling widows were everywhere. He passed them in the hallways. They crowded the dingy activity room. Without exception he found them unnaturally distrusting of his well-intentioned attention. At one time or another he had approached nearly all of them, hoping to spark some degree of interest, and had struck out at every turn.

Except for Mrs. Perkins, who lived across the hall from his apartment and provided him with a steady supply of day-old newspapers, Johnny had not made one female acquaintance in the entire thirty-unit complex. He took that sad reality, and the slight it represented, very personally

To make matters worse Johnny’s success at making friends among the male residents, he called them “inmates,” had been only slightly better. Some were deaf, blind, or immobile---which tended to limit their “good time” potential. 
Sadly, the few who still found drinking beer a viable social pursuit were no more affluent than Johnny. After years of having Aaron Peck and others pick up the tab, he was reluctant to cultivate drinking buddies who expected him to play that role.

As a result, his social life had become seriously constrained. For three years Willie Thomas, who did not drink at all, but played a mean game of cribbage, had been his most reliable ally among the residents. With Willie’s passing the previous December that welcome friendship had been lost.

In his heart of hearts Johnny Blanton was a very social creature. It appeared, however, that in the sterile confines of the Senior Complex his declining years were destined to be lived out in a state of stagnant depression. To his way of thinking it would take a miracle to change that unfortunate situation.

As a writer, of course, it is my job to create ‘miracles’ that change ‘unfortunate situations.’ In real life, however, it is up to you and me to  identify the Elder Orphans in our universe and, when possible, help create our own late-life miracles.