I had just figured out that the man I was meeting was “Jim the Undertaker” when he told me to sit down so we could talk.

Jim was holding court in the lobby… sitting in a high-backed chair and talking to those around him. He told me how people called him the unofficial Mayor at Garden Spot… and you could tell this was a man who enjoyed thinking and getting things done.

“Jim the Undertaker” was indeed retired from the funeral home he owned and in another era it would have been easy to see him as the helpful Mayor making things happen in his own small town.

He asked me where I dined… I innocently replied, “In the Cafe”. Jim smiled wryly and his eyebrow curled as he leaned forward and shook his head just a bit… “Bob… no, no, no… you eat in the Cafe… you dine in the Dining Room… you’ll have to try it some time.”

I walked away smiling not only because he was a great guy… but because I could so easily see myself saying something exactly like that.

If you have ever looked at an older adult and thought that nothing was going on behind the glasses and the grey hair… don’t you believe it. There are a lot more Jim’s here… and they keep me on my toes.

P.S.   I did try the dining room after Jim suggested it. I met the self described, “Go-Go Girls”. Five women who eat lunch together most days and call themselves “Go-Go” because they always order dessert to take back to their apartments. How can that not make you smile?

We did a survey with 25-45 year-olds to understand younger people’s perceptions about being older. The second greatest fear they said older people faced was death.

That simply isn’t true. Death holds no fear for them. They have accepted it and moved on.

That’s not to say they don’t have fears… some fear the way they will die… others have financial concerns, but all of these concerns are wrapped up in one little word… freedom.

Freedom means everything to them, and the loss of freedom is what they mourn when faced with less mobility or declining sight.

In one of our discussion groups I heard about the ultimate symbol of freedom… something that means more to seniors than many other things. Driving.

You can see their eyes light up when they talk about driving… hitting the road… going wherever they want… four wheels of freedom.

When the subject of “taking” their driver’s license away comes up, their eye’s change to those of a nine-year-old who says, “you’re not going to tell me what to do”. Beyond that you also see a little fear. Losing the ability to drive is huge to a senior. For many driving is a symbol that they are still in control, still able to do anything…

Margaret looked up and said, “I haven’t driven my car in over two months. I only put about 500 miles on my car every year… but it’s there.”

Some talked openly that they knew they drove longer than they should have… and for the first time I understood why… just one more trip… just a little more freedom.

It’s okay if you’re squirming in your seat thinking that some day you too will stop driving… that’s normal… but hopefully it will also encourage us to reach out and offer some of our freedom to these courageous people all around us who fear they are losing their’s.

I met and interviewed Ruth here at Garden Spot Village and was immediately intrigued by her. Ruth wears the traditional Mennonite bonnet, plain dress and sensible shoes and is a widow. She and her husband were small farmers and he was a minister in the Mennonite church.

Ruth brought down a little, folded piece of paper with the message below on it, typed on an old manual typewriter. She asked me to read it, think about its meaning and return it to her. I felt honored and special that she would share such an intimate piece of her life with me.

A letter from Ruth Meck, resident of Garden Spot Village, to her children, Christmas, 1995:

“I grew up on a farm on Horseshoe road, near Lancaster. Times were difficult for my family in the late 30’s and 40’s. Daddy was a good farmer and Mother tended a garden which kept our family in food. Money for the extra things was not available. At Christmastime, we learned to treasure the gifts of family, food, shelter and clothing.

In a little family room next to the kitchen, heated by an old-fashioned heatrola, Mother, on Christmas morning, prepared a plate for each of her 5 children filled with oranges, nuts and Christmas candies. These gifts were treasured because they were not every day available like they are today. Mother baked the best peppernuts with a raisin in the middle.

After doing the morning farm chores, we ate breakfast around the large kitchen table. There were 8 of us. Decorations and a tree were not a part of our Christmas. But, we always hoped there would be snow so we could go sledding on the nearby hill with the neighbors. Our Christmas day was much like a Sunday, with reading, visitsing and table games. One of the games we played was Bible Travelogue.

We enjoyed the music of Christmas. There was a piano in our home and we had a radio. Mother read to us the story of Christ’s birth from the Bible Story Book and we learned to share what we had with folks who came to our door. The postman, the milkman and the grocery man who delivered groceries each week.

I do not recall shopping or putting up a tree in my childhood home. We did, however, make paper decorations in grade school to trim the tree in our classroom. We exchanged small gifts with schoolmates. In S.S. [Sunday School] we sang the Christmas songs and heard the Christmas Story and it was given to us on picture cards to take along home.

Some folks from Philadelphia became friends of our family. They thought the Landis children should have Christmas gifts and bought toys for each of us. One memory that remains in my heart was the gift from the Fritz family of a beautiful doll, with eyes that opened and closed and a lovely face. She came complete with a wicker high chair. The doll was wrapped in a large pillow case.

In the fifties, I dated a young man names Jay. We enjoyed many Christmas times together. We went caroling with other youth from the Mellinger District. Sometimes by large bus with a horn on top to take the singing across the cold night air.

I treasured the family Christmas dinners at both Jay’s home and my home when we gathered around a large table laden with the “goodies” of the Season, prepared with love, and after saying a prayer of Thanksgiving to God we enjoyed eating, talking and the excitement of the gathering.”

Today’s discussion group was entitled, “What every 35 year-old needs to know.”

The room was crowded with people who wanted to share what they have learned in their lives. None of them were preachy… you could tell that they care… their advice hit me hard and at 43 these are good things to hear.  

They all said their parents rarely gave advice… instead they learned all they needed to know simply by watching. What was important was shown in how their parents lived their lives. There was true regret when they spoke of parents today who have a lot of opinions and talk about the right thing to do… but their kids see that the talk and their life don’t match up.

Then they slammed this thought home… “Why should your kids take your advice if you aren’t taking your advice?”

I love debates and discussions. I love to ponder and craft opinions. But this 43 year-old needs to spend a little more time crafting what I want to say with my life instead of the wonderful words I can put together in order to “enlighten” my children.

And if you think that’s great… wait till you hear what they had to say about marriage, careers and retirement…

The first lesson I learned about playing Bingo was that you don’t arrive at the time on the flyer… that is the time they START.

It was announced to the hundred or so people that they had to wait for me to pay my $1.00 and find a seat.

Based on the only Bingo lore I know, I was expecting people to have 50 cards in front of them and a “dauber”… I was relieved to see that these cards had little transparent windows that slide back and forth. You also only got two cards… even I could handle that.

There are rules and protocol to be followed… deviation is not looked upon with a friendly eye. Once you get a Bingo, you can’t get a second prize, if you win again the prize is given to a person that hasn’t won yet… until everyone gets a prize.

It sounds pleasant on the surface… but I was amazed that some people won 2 or 3 times and I sat needing a B-15 or O-72… slowly getting annoyed. There are two types of people… those who when calling out the numbers from their Bingo say “free space” and those that don’t say it because it’s assumed. I fancied that I would be an “assumed” type player… but I never had the chance… I got a “Mercy Prize.”

There was one consolation… the part they never talk about in polite Bingo circles. Regular Bingo is having numbers in a straight line, but they also play “H”, “T”, and “L” Bingo where you need to form the letter on your card. Bingo’s dirty little secret was whispered to me… “This is the best part… someone always yells Bingo and doesn’t have the letter… it always happens.”

We weren’t disappointed… for each letter game we played at least one person and often two or three would call Bingo only to discover that they didn’t have the letter after all. This gave all of us who were winless, Mercy Prize winners a little glee and a few giggles.

When you’re a Bingo Rookie, that’s pretty much all you can hope for.

I was graciously invited to dine with the GSV Red Hat ladies club and it was a really unique experience. Many of the Red Hat ladies are former teachers and nurses in this group. I find the dynamic of curious learning fascinating at this age. They all wanted to know and learn and grow—we sat out in 96 degree heat and no one minded but me. I had to take my jacket off!

We had lunch at the home of the daughter of a renowned Lancaster County Amish artist named Susie. I told Susie I would like to have my daughter Emilie speak with her. Emilie is a woman’s studies major and would be intrigued by Susie’s strength as an older female, even against stringent sociological and behavioral barriers. Susie walks with her head held high and speaks clearly to the face of tradition stating, “this is the way I am going to live my life. I am going to be satisfied and I am not going to cave in to total feminism by shunning the dress and beliefs, but I also don’t have to cave in to following only Amish tradition abandoning who I am and what I am going represent spiritually.”

On the way home the ladies I road with were quite tired. We had dined outside on a delicious “chicken divan” type delight wrapped in homemade herb crust and pickled red beet eggs Susie and her daughters lovingly prepared for us. A long day in the hot sun–a lot for any age. And yet the Red Hat ladies’ stamina was amazing.

We spoke in the van on the way back to Garden Spot Village of their younger days as women growing up; Peg spoke sadly about her husband’s struggle with Parkinson’s disease and the impact it has had on their ability to do things together outside the home now. All the women in my group were mobile, but I noticed a few back at the gathering spot had walkers and canes. None needed help.

When the head of the group stood to speak at the lunch, she mentioned Alice had not been with the group for six months and this was her first event since her return. She was apparently quite ill and in the assisted living area of the community for these months and, although she did not mention the nature of her illness, she looked frail; the rosiness in her cheeks betrayed her recovery however, and she claimed to still be a little tired but “on her way back.”

Everyone babied Alice, making sure she had enough to eat and helping her in and out of her chair. They also passed Hallmark cards around the table, for each resident of the apartments and carriage homes whom they had been notified was sick or in the hospital that week. Everyone signed, and with each signature came a short ditty about how each of them knew that particular resident and what they liked about him or her. Then they passed the card on to the next be-hatted beauty, often holding the pen with unsteady hand.

The most prevalent physical challenge I noticed among these women was the ability to hear, especially in an outdoor space or among a conversational crowd. I have observed in my other journeys here that the women seem to have more of a challenge in this area than the men and often it alienates them from conversation, making them a prisoner to their private thoughts and often preventing them from participating in group activities.

John Farber, COO at GSV pointed out to me in an interview that hearing aids are so advanced now. There is a system they are developing for the chapel for residents that have a certain type of hearing aid where they simply click on a particular channel and the service comes through perfectly clear. “Did you know that hearing aids now are ‘Blue Tooth’ technology and you can make adjustments to them right on your laptop directly to your earpiece?” And wheelchairs, John continues, “these types of technology are making our elders more mobile, hear better, see better, I just think they have not even begun to tap into it as deeply as they [manufacturers] could or should because they think it might be too cost-prohibitive to those on a fixed income.”

Blue tooth technology, can you imagine? Maybe I could combine my wireless Blackberry ear piece with a hearing aid and permanently embed it in my left ear so I would never be out of the loop….on second thought, maybe there is something to be said about not hearing everything.

I took the GSV shuttle which transports residents of both the apartments and the carriage houses to and from Yoder’s grocery store, Weaver’s retail store, Good’s grocery store and CVS pharmacy Wednesday and Friday mornings and Monday afternoons, in order to gain insight and experience in shopping as an older adult. When I approached the point where the shuttle picks up precisely at 8:34 (I felt like I had a tee-off time at Hershey!)

Once I arrived at Weaver’s with Jim and Marian, Jim took off on his own stating, “I don’t want you hanging around with me, I move to fast.” Marian was happy to have me as her personal shopping assistant, and I was more than pleased to accommodate.

What a delightful experience I had with her. And how much I learned about the difficulties in shopping as an older adult. Marian had read there was a sale on women’s shirts at Weaver’s. Although she obviously knew her way to the ladies’ clothing aisles, the lack of sizable signage prohibited her from seeing which of the aisles housed the “sale” items and which aisles represented the “regularly priced” merchandise.

Once I led her to the sale rack, I asked her how I could help. First, Marian struggled trying to simply pull a shirt or two out of the packed rack; the garments were jammed in so tightly when she tried to pull one out to look at the size, price or style, another would fall to the floor or become entangled with her choice, making it virtually impossible for her to identify whether or not she even wanted to try it on. To make things worse, the floor was slippery cement, so when she leaned over to retrieve the fallen items, she nearly slipped and fell to the hard surface. Once we had wrestled the dreaded shirt out, Marian couldn’t read the tag (and there were so many markdowns and scratch-outs, I couldn’t either!) The price was handwritten on a small paper tag which would be difficult for even the least sight-challenged to read.

Consumers with physical limitations want apparel products and retail environments that work for them. Manufacturers need to satisfy multiple consumers, regardless of their physical ability. Current industry perceptions about disability present the greatest barrier to changing the mindset of manufacturers. Even though it is clear this is an ever-expanding market spending a great deal of disposable income on retail items, we still need “buy-in” for product development.