In the age of political correctness, the way in which our society labels people and groups of people has become muted, bland, and overly cautious. We no longer refer to homosexuals by nasty slurs, African Americans are no longer referred to as "coloreds," fat people are called obese, those who were once called mentally retarded are referred to as "special needs." However, there is one group of people who does not receive the respect, admiration, and gratitude that is often afforded to others. Our elders, those we still refer to as "old folks."
When we hear the word "old," more often than not we think of someone like this:
Over the next couple of generations Americans need to change the way we treat our elders. The best way I can think of to begin this change is to start by changing the name in which we refer to them. I have taught BTM and MLM not to refer to people over the age of 65 as "old folks" but to instead call them "elders." This is also part of the Eden Alternative; The Eden Alternative is seeking to remake the experience of aging around the world.
An elder is defined as an influential member of a tribe or community, often a chief or ruler; a superior. An elder is someone that other's go to for guidance, support, mentorship, share stories and experiences, to learn family traditions and pass on favorite recipes.
*to learn more about the Eden Alternative, check out http://www.edenalt.org/*
Amber, we have a unique challenge, to raise our children to be respectful and supportive. How can we teach our children the importance of the elders in our community?
Dear Sarah,
I prefer to call them ol' fogies.
I kid, I kid. Sorry, I know you work with the elderly, and they are near and dear to your heart, but I just couldn't resist. :)
I actually love old people, excuse me, the elderly. Especially little old elderly men. Maybe it's because my maternal grandfather passed away when I was 6 months old and my paternal grandfather passed away when i was 2 years old. I feel like I've always been seeking out the grandfather I never really had.
I love little old elderly ladies too. Especially those purple hat ladies! They are feisty and fun! I look forward to being a purple hat one day!
But I know the problem you are talking about doesn't stem from people liking or not liking our older generation. It comes from whether we view them as a nuisance, or a novelty, or what they should be viewed as...a treasured resource.
Many people see old people our elders as being antiquated and stuck in their ways. What could we possibly have to learn from them today? Life is so different now than when they were in their prime...they used rotary phones and records and typewriters for god's sake!
I'm lucky that I've known so many wonderful progressive older people. Like the 80-some year old man at our church who is the hard core environmentalist. Or my 70-something widowed neighbor that is a die-hard liberal and regales me of her Match.com dating stories. ("Amber, the man showed up in suspenders?! I'm not dating someone who wears suspenders!") Or my dad who just got his Masters degree at 60+ years old and is now working on his doctorate in Instructional Technology. (60-something is elder too, right?)
And don't forget Margaret and Helen, the 80 year old women who have blown up the blogosphere blogging about politics, feminism, and their apple pie recipes. And who were my inspiration for our back-and-forth style blogging format.
Sarah, these are elders who have not only embraced change, but also bring in their wealth of knowledge and experience to enhance it!
Americans are particularly bad about "not respecting our elders" compared to many other cultures. I don't know why it is.
But I promise you this Sarah, I call homosexuals "gays and lesbians", African Americans "black", fat people "fat people" (hey, I'm fat, so I can call us whatever I want), the mentally retarded "people with disabilities", and for now on, I will work on calling old folks "elders."
Amber,
My favorite part about working with elders is the stories they share of their life experiences. Our elders are a living history. Here are a few that are imprinted on my psyche.
--the woman who experienced the bombings at Pearl Harbor first hand. Then hid in her home with a friend to avoid evacuation as they wanted to wait for their husbands to return before leaving the island.
--the devoted couple who both lived in internment camps in Poland as children during WWII, managed to survive, immigrate to the U.S., marry, have a happy family and a successful business.
--flip that coin and there's the man who served with Hitler as part of the German military throughout WWII. Lived to tell his story and how his actions and of those who served alongside him continue to haunt him and have psychologically marred his children so much they feel the need to serve and repent for their father's actions.
-- the old man who drove a bus for MARTA for more than 30 years, he was incredibly proud that he'd never had an accident go on his driving record, which he bragged about at every opportunity. After his death his daughter found a journal in his desk drawer for an incident where he ran his bus into a vehicle parked in a dark corner which held a young couple "necking." To avoid having to report the incident, both parties agreed to keep it hush hush.
--the "young" elder who asked me why she already had wrinkles, according to her she was far too young to have wrinkles. When I asked her age, she replied, I'm 94 damn it. : )
--the once stay at home mom of five who worked her fingers to the bone raising a family and managing a house. Even in her 90's she stays awake until after midnight cleaning, doing laundry, preparing for what is to come tomorrow. She says it's all she's ever known, and 5 to 6 hours of sleep is enough.--always the caregiver.
--the sassy 108 year old who recently told me to let my hair grow out that I looked like a boy with short hair. Or the 89 year old who reminds me once in a while that it's ok if I skip dessert and that my pants would thank me.
--Elmer, my all time favorite elder. He lived in the memory care unit (dementia unit) of a CCRC I worked at in Seattle. I've never met a kinder, gentler, more loving soul. Incredibly successful, had more money than I could ever imagine, he loved his wife with a kind of fervor rarely seen anymore. He and his wife were never able to have children, he was an only child. In the last years of his life he had no family, a few amazing close friends, and this social worker who cherished every moment. He told me the same stories time and time again and I never tired of them. I'd heard from staff that he could be short tempered and aggressive sometimes, a side of him I never witnessed and chose to pretend did not exist. I could listen to Elmer tell stories all day long.
Ok, I better stop now, I could go on and on.
From one fat chick to another.
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