The Elder Cycle

"One, Two, Three, Four Musketeers!" the old woman on our street snapped at the four of us as she pointed to each of us in turn. We were walking towards down the street when we were greeted with this seemingly random outburst. This is the same hunched, wrinkled woman about whom my father-in-law said, "She has been here forever!"

This outburst made me think about the elderly in our society. Our culture no longer respects our elders, no longer looks to them for advice born from their experiences. Historically, the elderly were highly respected; in some cultures around the world, they still are today. In the United States and other "advanced" westernized countries, this respect has been replaced by slight disdain. A disdain for their perceived senility. I believe this perception of senility is related to the advances in healthcare that have helped the physical body live longer, but neglected the emotional and mental sides of our being. Alzheimer's has become more prevalent in our society, chipping away at the pride and self-esteem of all our senior citizens. As mentioned in the New York Times in June 2002, dementia is "so frightening that the impulse is to recoil from it." The elderly "feel like no one really understands" them. Alzheimer's is a "disease you hide." As we ignore those who are - or might be - afflicted by Alzheimer's, an "elderly cycle" begins. This vicious cycle has left us lacking the vast knowledge of those who came before us. It has also left our elders distrustful of those around them.

As a child, I assisted Gladys, an older woman in our neighborhood, with her garbage. In reality, all I offered was the transfer of a tiny garbage bag 10 feet to the curb and the promise of twice-weekly social interactions. Gladys paid me with a small cash allowance - about $1 per week - and a bag of homemade cookies or peanut brittle. As I look back, I realize Gladys didn't need my assistance at all. She was just lonely, the next generation all but ignoring the experiences she may or may not have possessed - I'll never know. She wanted someone to talk to regularly. Gladys was also offering me her wisdom, but I never accepted it; at the time, I didn't realize she had more to give (I thought the cookies were plenty!). Even at that age, society had taught me that the elderly were not expected to offer much.

The cycle begins when the younger generation loses respect for their elders because of the perceived senility of a few. The cycle continues as senior citizens feel neglected or even persecuted by society. This causes them to lash out, fueling our mistrust. Once, my wife Drey noticed a quarter drop from behind a phone booth on a city street corner. She stooped down to pick it up for its owner. Just before Drey reached the quarter, a woman's voice snarled, "Don't touch my quarter! Get away!" Drey was shocked. She jumped up and saw an elderly woman staring menacingly at her from underneath a headful of unkempt silvery hair. Drey was understandably upset. She may never help an older woman again, continuing the cycle.

This old woman has probably been taken advantage of before. She no longer trusts anyone. Her fearful outbursts perpetuate the witch-like image we have of her contemporaries. This cycle will only end if we proactively attempt to stop it. It won't take a monumental effort. If each of us simply takes the time and effort to listen - really listen - to our elders, asking probing, interested questions, we can begin to break down their mistrust. Fewer of our elders will be found growling among us on the streets; they'll be busy giving us the gift of their experience. This won't cure Alzheimer's, but it would go a long way towards ensuring those senior citizens not afflicted by this terrible disease can continue being productive, happy components of our society.

Although it isn't necessary, it couldn't hurt to help an old woman across the road or with her groceries when the opportunity presents itself. Maybe that's what the old woman on my street was alluding to when she called us the Four Musketeers. Wouldn't those valiant warriors help an old woman across the road? Or maybe she was just offering us four candy bars (ala Gladys) if we'd just help her with her garbage. I passed her one last time before we moved out of the neighborhood. She was dressed in a sharp business suit, delivering what sounded like sage advice to a young man. That could have been me, if I had opened myself up to her when I had the chance. He must be the fifth Musketeer.