LIFE LESSONS
Hating Ageism While Being Kind of Ageist Yourself
Joining the local senior community center
Tell the truth, you’re probably not thrilled with the way young people are looking at you, dismissing you these days.
Ma’am and Sir are uttered, and you look around only to realize, oh, they’re talking to me?
There’s that feeling of people looking right through you. You’re an annoyance blocking their view of something more important. You’re just there, taking up some physical space, but not something really to engage with or take seriously.
This is especially hard for the former “hotties,” the women (and men too) who always knew they had a special power — heads turned when they entered a room, phone numbers were acquired, first dates were penciled in. At the produce aisle the art of the flirt was perfected and expected.
Until that day came and people weren’t paying attention anymore. The Kryptonite of aging had diminished that superpower and suddenly you have to flex other talents to get someone to notice you.
My partner and I share a 20-year age difference — he’s older than I, and as I’ve just turned 50, you can do the math. The details of how we’ve made it work for 15 years will be in upcoming stories, never fear.
(Spoiler alert: it’s been great.)
He has worshipped at the altar of tennis for a good 40 years, and sadly his knees are no longer happy with the sport. We both resisted it for months and months — honestly we did — but it became apparent it may be time to dip the toe into the dreaded Pickleball.
We watched some YouTube videos to learn more, but ultimately hands-on court time is needed. But whoa, some of the prices for classes and organized leagues are just too much when you’re just starting out.
And so that’s when, with trembling heart, aching ego and a lowered head, my fella took the cautious steps toward — don’t say it too loudly!!…
The Senior Center
Let me ask you, what just came into your head with those words?
I’ll tell ya some images that may have entered our minds:
- Bingo and shuffleboard areas
- An elder smell permeating the premises
- Knitting and basket weaving in the arts and crafts room
- Dithery biddies arguing over mahjong tables
- Men shuffling along slowly, arguing about politics
- People wandering around, maybe lost
Um, AGEISM MUCH in those assumptions of ours?
Anyone reading can point to ageist attitudes or direct ageism affecting their own lives, whether in your 30s, 40s, 50s, 60s, all the way through to the 80s, especially in the world of work.
Hell, even a 20-something experiences ageism, possibly from you.
Think not? How about those times you’re on a plane and the captain arriving late to fly you across the Atlantic looks twenty-two? (Gulp) Or the times that new doctor/specialist you’re trusting your life with is around the age of your youngest grandchild?
But those are just thoughts, not ageist behavior.
I’m willing to bet that at least 30 percent of you folks writing and reading on Medium have been quietly aged out of many a job description, or not so subtly encouraged to not bother applying for certain promotions, despite the laws, over the years.
And sometimes it’s just blatant. Two top gems from my recent past:
“Oh, you’re one of those people born in the 1900s.”
Only to be topped by:
“We’re looking for actors to play elderly, so age 50–60 only please.”
But come with me back to the Senior Center.
My partner is a very youthful, in-shape 69-almost-70. He’s a former dancer from Broadway, television and film, so his Peter Pan soul couldn’t help but say, “Do I really belong at a Senior Center? That’s not really me. I’m not really like, you know, those seniors.”
We evaluated the numbers. The Center offers a twice-weekly pickleball class (courts, balls and paddles included) for an insanely low yearly price, plus access to art and language classes, computer workshops, legal assistance, possible socializing and game nights and cabarets all for that same low price.
So, he took the plunge and hopped on in.
And I’m happy to say he’s thriving, fortunately (or unfortunately) becoming addicted to pickleball and kicking butt at it, becoming invested in the art classes, and becoming an in-demand possible substitute for a local game night.
Most of all though, it’s opened our minds to the very wide and deep variety that falls within the designation of “senior.”
As recent as last year, while aging in Los Angeles, “the city of hotness,” my partner was feeling ignored, invisible and like he was living in a place that no longer had a need for his kind, a city with too many ghosts of past lives and successes long gone.
Now that we’ve relocated to the desert and he’s bravely stepped into the Senior Center, he’s right in the middle of the senior age range. He plays with younger 50s and 60s couples and is challenged. Conversely, he takes deep breaths and practices anti-agiest patience when that 80-something gal in the walker wants to participate, or when that 97 — yes, 97-year-old! — assigns himself as his partner in a competitive sport and is determined to win.
Don’t be ageist, now! He’s ambulatory and hasn’t given up on life yet!
Now he comes home with stories about all the seniors’ personalities — it’s like high school but crankier — and there’ve been so many a-ha moments and new observations for both of us. Like the one friend whose wife is so friendly but a victim of Alzheimer’s. He recounted to us how “the evenings are the worst” because he never can get full sleep because there’s always the worry of what his beloved is getting up to with the oven or the back door or that closet. “She used to be whip-smart,” he relays.
We’d never even thought of these challenges that so many aging partners are grappling with day in and day out.
How sad, how scary. How challenging.
And, as happens anytime you deliberately change your surroundings or volunteer to be involved with others’ problems, my man and I end up hugging one another, grateful for all we have and how lucky we are, despite aging.
So hurrah, we’ve experienced ageism aimed against us, and now we’re on the other side of reassessing our own ageist assumptions.
I’m proud of us. I’m proud of him. A victory, yes?
It was.
Until he said, “You know, you’re 50 now. You’re technically allowed and welcome to come to the Senior Center too.”
Whereupon I responded, “What? But I’m not like you seniors!!!”
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