Tag: 100-year life

Slab Bacon and Tequila: The Ingredients for a Full Life

Posted on by robbie

Now that I’m 81 years old, more of my friends are moving into nursing homes. Sometimes, it’s due to some kind of frailty. Other instances, it’s a sort of insurance policy. They want to make sure they get in before their health fails and it’s too late. Still, I try to dissuade them.
Nursing homes today infantilize older people. We’re too easily discounted.
If people start living to 100, we need to flip the script on aging. I believe a large part of that will be rethinking where and how older people live. Nursing homes need to be places where elders continue to be pertinent and matter.
Recently, I read about an experiment in which older people received plants. Some were told to nourish and take care of them. Others were assured that an aide would tend to them. The group that took responsibility for their plants lived longer.
That isn’t a surprise to me. People, no matter their age, need to feel and be viewed as capable. Everyone wants a purpose. Writing off older people is stupid. When given the opportunity, they will rise to the challenge.
Tutoring, anti-poverty work, human care – these are all valuable jobs older people could do. Even people fortunate enough to no longer require a paycheck will want to keep looking for ways to make a contribution and learn new things. I know I do.

Over the years, I’ve been lucky enough to have a lot of jobs that seemed, to me at least, more play than work. I’ve been an English teacher in Honolulu. I served as part of the crew on a small boat from Tahiti to New Zealand. I was on active duty in the military and also spent time in the reserves. I’ve been a newspaper reporter, an assistant dean of admissions at Princeton, and the founder and first president of Expeditionary Learning (EL Education), an organization that makes schools more engaging, effective and joyous. For 20 years, I also ran the Fund for the City of New York, a foundation set up by the Ford Foundation to improve the functioning of government and quality of life in New York City.
Today, I’m retired. I still sit on a number of boards and write the occasional study or report, but I feel a step removed from the engagement and connection that “real” work has.
The irony is that as I’ve gotten older, I feel I’ve developed more strengths. (When you make a lot of mistakes as I have, you learn from them.) I’m wiser. I’ve always been a patient person, but now I’m even more so. I’m pretty calm. I don’t worry much. I’m optimistic.
I don’t think I’m an outlier. Many people my age are also savvy. If we’re going to live to 100 – and are pretty fit and healthy — why not put that to good use?
I’ve got a long list of things I’d still like to learn, too. Drawing. Maybe painting, if I really had 20 years. Yoga. Tennis. I’d also like to travel, returning to places I had adventures in, like Japan, plus locals I never got around to visiting, such as Africa, China, Brazil and Scotland.
For now, though, my purpose is to be the primary caregiver to my wife, Cathy, who has Alzheimer’s. My main job is to be with her and take care of her. It’s tragic that so much of her memory is gone. But taking care of the woman I love, that’s not hard.
If I weren’t around, she’d have to live in a nursing home.
My mother and mother-in-law both passed away in nursing homes. Each time I visited them, I thought, “Boy, this place could use an Outward Bound.” (Although we’d have to use a different name lest people connect it with facilitating an early departure to another world.) Older people need challenges built into their daily routines — things that make them feel fresh. Proud. Competent.
If it were up to me to design a better living situation, I’d get people up earlier in the morning for brisk walks or a dip in cold water. There would be new opportunities to try things, even jumping rope, so they had the chance to improve their skills the more they try.
Instead of depending so much on staff, residents could cook and take care of each other. They could camp out. Spend time in nature. Meditate. They could build a culture. Maybe at one particular nursing home, everyone’s writing. At another, everyone paints.
The context of daily life also needs to be addressed. Modify an activity by doing it out in the woods rather than in a rec room. What happens when you go through another part of your routine with the lights off? Let’s change the rules.
Everyone needs surprises, no matter their age. Imagine saying, “We’re going to put on a circus. This person’s going to learn to juggle. That person’s going to walk a tightrope, even if we never take it off the ground. And you, over there? You’re going to be the elephant.”
We all learn better when there’s more risk, challenge and emotion involved. As Confucius said, “The last part of your life is for understanding.” People living to 100 could aim to understand better — and be better understood.

Greg Farrell retired as President and CEO of Expeditionary Learning (now EL Education), a nonprofit school creation and improvement organization, in 2008.  He currently serves on its board, and on the boards of several other nonprofits.  He lives in Brooklyn, N.Y., and Keene, N.Y., where he and his wife, Cathy, raised their two sons. Cathy, who was a professor and dean at LaGuardia Community College, has Alzheimer’s, and Greg is her chief caregiver.
This post is paid for by AARP.

It’s Completely Okay to Say You Want to Grow Old

Posted on by robbie

The day my mom was diagnosed with cancer at age 62, she turned to my dad in tears and said, “I’m not going to get to be the grandma.”
Many women today don’t want to be called that. They think it makes them sound “old.” When I hear this, a little part of me feels like yelling, “Do you know what a privilege it is to grow old?”
Aging — and one day, being able to live to 100 — should be celebrated. To me, “Grandma” is the name of an older person who’s reached the ultimate milestone. It’s something to be grateful for, not hide from. Forget your vanity! Be proud that you made it to a phase of life that many people never got to experience.
My husband lost his father at 13. I lost my mother at 30. Sometimes I worry that we won’t be around to see our young sons grow up. Becoming a grandmother and supporting my children when they become parents has become an ultimate goal.
Late in the summer of 2015, my mother (who’d never smoked) learned she had stage 4 lung cancer. Her oncologist was hopeful he could treat her. Yet hours after their visit, my mother couldn’t catch her breath, despite being on oxygen. My father rushed her to the hospital, where she was admitted to the ICU. My sister and I arrived less than an hour before my mother was put on a ventilator. She had no idea what was happening, and we didn’t either. We couldn’t imagine that her fight with cancer could be ending before it had even begun.
For the next two weeks, we were at my mother’s side, day and night. She remained on the ventilator, unconscious. Then one night, the doctor took us aside and told us there was no longer hope. Eighteen hours after my mother was taken off the ventilator, she passed away.
This was the most horrific month of my life. Just a few weeks earlier, my mother had been at a friend’s wedding, hosting her sister for a visit, celebrating my son’s first birthday…
Even now, it’s hard to believe that she’s gone.

When I was a child, my mother worked from home and was there every afternoon when I came home from school. If I close my eyes, I can picture her standing behind our kitchen counter, doling out an obscene amount of food, eager to hear everything about my day. (She had a lot of opinions.)
Even after I became an adult, my mother would do things for me before I’d even thought to do them myself. If I mentioned to her that I was sick, there’d be a knock at my door with soup from Second Avenue Deli.
Life without her has been an adjustment in so many ways. I miss her wit and wisdom. I miss our daily calls, texts and emails. And from a practical perspective, life has become more challenging.
There’s no substitute to a grandparent when you’re raising a small child. In my first year as a working mom, my husband and I rarely had a tiff, thanks to my mom swooping in when we were both stressed and sleep-deprived to watch our son, bring us a meal, tidy up our living room, send us on a date night or take some responsibility off our plate. (“I thought the baby could use some more pajamas. Here you go!”)
It’s hard to describe the value of a grandmother kvelling over your “perfect, beautiful, gorgeous, brilliant, elite, premium, beyond adorable” babies (to use her words). It’s the confidence boost every parent needs, and one that I hope to provide to my own kids — and even to their kids — if I reach 100.
If I were to live to that age, my fantasy is that I’d be in great health and living with my husband somewhere beautiful — perhaps a lovely little apartment in Chelsea or … Provence! — reading books, drinking wine, looking out at a beautiful view and seeing our children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren who just happened to have moved there.
I’d be grateful to hold them, share whatever wisdom I have and help them understand our family’s history and values. (Here’s to hoping I’ll also get to see our first female president elected!)
If I live to be 100, I will have lived almost 40 years longer than my mother did. Hearing my son say “Mama” is one of the most beautiful things in the world. I’m pretty sure being called “Grandma” is just as wonderful.

Julia Edelstein is a writer and editor specializing in health journalism. She is currently the senior health editor at Parents Magazine. She lives in New York City with her husband and their two young sons.
This post is paid for by AARP.

Getting Real About Golden Years

Posted on by robbie

Getting old isn’t for the faint of heart. Healthcare is expensive. Extra services are needed. There’s pressure on your adult children to take care of you. (And from their perspective, they’ve got to deal with the mental anguish of watching you try to cope!)
Yes, it’s joyous to lead a long, healthy life, but the operative word is “healthy.” If you’re lingering, not living, I don’t see an upside.
Making it to 100 — or beyond — only makes sense, to me, if you have a high quality of life. If you’re confined to a wheelchair, if someone has to clean you, bathe you and dress you, and if you’re not even aware of your surroundings, living to such a ripe old age doesn’t feel like much of a victory. To enjoy longevity, it’s crucial that we can still give back to others, feel well enough to participate in activities, and enjoy our family and friends.
When my father was 69, he had a stroke. A medevac helicopter rushed him to the hospital, where doctors told us there was a possibility that he’d recover. As a family, we decided to put in a feeding tube.
Had I understood the magnitude of my father’s stroke and been given more clear medical information, I would have made a different decision.
My father lived 14 more years, but he was confined to a wheelchair and had minimal speech capabilities. He suffered. Despite my parents’ long-term health insurance policy, his illness also ate away at their financial resources.
Three years ago, my father finally passed.

Afterward, I thought my mother would have a chance to be healthier and happier, as she was no longer a primary caregiver. Unfortunately, that didn’t happen. Last year, she fell and broke her hip. At the same time her physical health declined, so did her mental health. Now she, too, requires 24-7 care.
Today, my mother resides in a senior living facility. It’s clean and safe. She’s treated with kindness. A nurse visits her once a week and calls me with any problems. But since my mother’s finances were drained from my father’s illness and her long-term insurance doesn’t cover much, I support her. At first, I was optimistic that Medicare would help, but at the end of the day, when someone needs around-the-clock care, the cost is too considerable.
I’m not complaining; many others are in a similar situation. As people live longer, they need to be cared for. That’s the concern with an aging population, and it’s one that should be addressed more seriously.
I think the healthcare crisis we’re in is substantial. It’s a tragedy to see people lose their Medicare while drug prices rise, and to hear about terrible nursing home situations in the news. The longer people live, the more needs they have, and the greater the burden on our entire system.
I doubt that I’m alone in these thoughts. There’s a movement in our country toward hospice services. People want compassionate solutions, not 911 drama. As we have the opportunity to live longer, it will become critical for people in the medical field to come clean with families so that appropriate choices can be made. Hopefully, those decisions will be guided by love.
On the other hand, exactly when the “best” years are in your life depends on you, your career and your interests. Each individual’s journey is different. There’s no prescription for success or happiness.
If I were to live to 100 and still had a good quality of life, I’d continue to engage in enriching, cultural activities. I’d spend my days going to the theater, watching old movies and reading fiction. I’d surround myself with interesting stories, and would hopefully be reading them to my great-grandchildren.
Although I officially retired as president of the Brooklyn Academy of Music in 2015, I recently completed a two-year senior fellowship at The Andrew W. Mellon Foundation. Now, I’m serving as a senior advisor to the Onassis Foundation’s cultural centers in New York and Athens, Greece.
I love what I do, but it’s hard to know if I’ll still be working at the age of 100. Younger people will call the shots at that point, but hopefully I’ll be interesting enough to stick around and contribute to their shining moments.
If so, I’d try to illuminate and educate younger generations without always saying, “In my day…” I’d try not to hold on to the same level of professional intensity I had in my 40s, 50s and 60s.
In return, I’ll hopefully be seen as a visionary in my day — someone who worked hard, did well and added more vitality to the field.
As humans, we can’t go backward. We have to move forward. If it’s intimidating to think about that in big chunks, then we can break it down day by day. To me, that means if I can wake up and feel good, continue to work and be with the people I care about, then I’m lucky.

Karen Brooks Hopkins served as President of the Brooklyn Academy of Music from 1999 until her retirement in 2015 and was an employee of the institution since 1979. She has worked with the Cultural Institutions Group, the Mayor’s Cultural Affairs Advisory Commission and as the Brooklyn Regent for the New York State Education Department. In 2013, Crain’s named her one of the “50 Most Powerful Women in New York.” Karen currently serves on the boards of the Jerome L. Greene and Alexander Onassis Foundations, as Senior Fellow in Residence at the Andrew W. Mellon Foundation and Fellow of the National Center for Arts Research at Southern Methodist University.
This post is paid for by AARP.

Turn and Face the Change

Posted on by robbie

I’m fascinated by lifespan: how we’ve spent the time that’s already behind us; how we’re using our present time; what’s going to happen to the time allotted us in the future. That said, I’m all for a life that’s well lived rather than one that’s long. Instead of being mediocre for 150 years, I’d prefer to be brilliant for 70.
I do think time gives us more opportunities to change, and the longer you live, the more you get. I was the typical angry adolescent, but at my recent high school reunion, my old classmates kept saying they’d never seen me smile and laugh so much. And although I grew up in a family where I was taught to never talk about my feelings, becoming a parent in my 20s changed me. I learned to open up and express myself. Now, every day, I tell my 8-year-old son that I love him and how proud I am of him.
So long as we continue to learn and grow, time also gives us the opportunity for reinvention. At just 33 years old, I’m already on my third career as a writer and director. I’m also a personal trainer. (Previously, I worked as a fighter and a forklift driver.)
Twice in my life – once after my marriage fell apart and the second, after a long-term relationship ended – I found myself in a deep depression. I used alcohol and painkillers. I considered suicide. For a while, I was even homeless, carrying around two duffel bags of belongings and sleeping on the F train in New York City, where I live. The only thing more exhausting than an existence like that is hiding it from people. It was like swallowing razorblades.
What pulled me out of those dark times was an intense feeling that my life wasn’t done yet. I vividly remember thinking, This isn’t my time.

Going through difficult periods made me capable of putting other problems in perspective. What I value in friendships and romantic partnerships is much different now. Instead of needing to be validated by someone else, I crave emotional support and good communication. That’s what we all yearn for when things go poorly.
But for me, all those benefits of time still don’t outweigh the realities of growing older.
Men in my family usually don’t live long past 65 — if they even make it to that age at all. We have a history of neurological diseases like Parkinson’s and multiple sclerosis. Dementia is part of my family tree as well.
In 2014, my grandmother — who raised me – was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. Over the years, my family missed the early signs. But once we recognized them, she seemed to deteriorate overnight. One night, Nana was cooking us dinner. The next, I was carrying her to the bathroom because she couldn’t remember where it was.
My entire family, including my ex-wife, became Nana’s caregivers around the clock. We did her shopping, read to her and kept her company. She became paranoid and angry, unable to do all the things she used to do: cook, take tai chi classes, even watch TV. We couldn’t even suggest going to a doctor without her flying off the handle. As she deteriorated, the circle of people who helped her got a lot smaller.
I spent a lot of nights crying. When my grandmother passed away last year, she was only 82 years old.
When I say I don’t want to live to be 100, that’s an opinion based out of fear – a fear that my quality of life will decline greatly after a certain point. I want to live the best life I can for as long as I can, but the possibility of becoming a burden on my loved ones makes me hesitant to accept the notion of a long life.
A cure for dementia would definitely change my outlook on the prospect of living to 100. But who knows if and when that will happen? Back in the 80s, didn’t we think we’d be living like the Jetsons by now?
My absolute biggest fear about aging is losing every memory I’ve ever had and becoming a shell of the self that I know and that everyone around me loves. I want my son to look at me and always see me.
With the family history of health conditions that I have, it’s hard to imagine myself at 100. I can’t help but worry that living that long would keep my son from living the life he’s dreamed of for himself.

Jared Glenn is a film and music video director based in New York City. He is also an aspiring writer and a personal trainer in lower Manhattan, as well as a devoted father.
This post is paid for by AARP.
 
 

Long Live Good Nutrition, Healthcare and Biology

Posted on by robbie

Recently, I was looking through a book that listed the “most amazing places” to visit around the world. I remember thinking, “Will I really get to see all 35 in the time I have, or will I need to pick and choose?”
It’s scary to think that our time here on earth is limited. Many people, including myself, have a massive list of things they’d like to do or accomplish. If I could have five careers, for example, I would. Although I’m a health and fitness coach and social worker, I’d also love to support my community in other ways. Rehabbing abused animals and working in prison advocacy immediately come to mind.
When I consider the possibility of living to be 100, I can’t help but think, “Why not?” It sounds awesome — just think of how much more time we’ll have! But to enjoy it, we’ll need to take care of ourselves.
People in my family live long, healthy, happy lives. My great-uncle, one of the original Tuskegee Airmen, lived to be 95. We used to spend an afternoon each week together. Mentally, he was very sharp until his last few months. His sister-in-law, my great aunt, lived to 99. She went skydiving for her 85th and 90th birthdays.
Today, the oldest person I’m closest to is my father, who just turned 84. He’s very active, both physically and mentally. He does callisthenic exercises every morning, walks the family dog, and mows the lawn and cleans the gutters on his own. A former judge, he’s still an avid reader and thinker, and actively works to keep his mind sharp. My mom’s only 71, but she’s on the treadmill every day.

Because I was adopted as a baby and don’t know much of my biological history, I’m unsure what I can reasonably expect in regard to my own longevity. But I deeply believe that it will depend on a lifestyle that places value on physical and emotional health.
If people are going to live to 100, healthcare will have to improve. Not only should it become more accessible and affordable (that’s a given), but people should be rewarded for paying attention to preventative care, such as annual exams.
I’d love to see a broader range of medical treatments in everyone’s health plan. Along with prescribing drugs to control symptoms, an emphasis should be put on using nutrition to help people manage issues like high blood pressure. In an ideal world, doctors would receive nutrition counseling to help them discuss it with their patients.
We’ll also need more acceptance and education about mental health issues. They impact large swaths of our society, and yet we continue to behave as if that’s not the case. As a result, more and more people go without getting the support that could help them build meaningful, fulfilling lives.
Staying active is a key part of being physically and emotionally healthy. I fully intend to remain active throughout the course of my life. I currently run triathlons, and I am planning to start yoga soon. Ideally, I’ll still be doing triathlons when I’m 80 — or 100 — but I’ve had three surgeries already on my knee, so I need to be open as to how things play out. If I can’t do a triathlon, then I’ll walk every day — and I’ll be the best walker I can be. Aging isn’t about what you can’t do. It’s about keeping up with your own parameters.
I think gym memberships should be part of healthcare plans. People need to find a way to move their bodies that make them feel good. In the decade I’ve spent in the social work field, I’ve routinely found that older adults who maintain active lifestyles are able to rehabilitate and return home from the hospital far faster than those who don’t.
My understanding is that women generally live longer than men, so I do have some fears about outliving my husband if I were to live to 100. I don’t intend to have children, so I hope I won’t be alone. I have 14 nieces and nephews that I’m close to, who range from newborn to 30 years old. Some I babysit. Others train with me for triathlons. “Will you be on the hook for me when I’m older?” I tease them. (“Is that why you’re spending so much time with us?” one of my nephews asked the other day.)
The answer, of course, is no. At the present time, my vision for living to 100 involves living independently in the Shenandoah Valley, on the acres of farmland I own. I hope to be homesteading and growing my own fruits and vegetables. Whether working or volunteering, I want to still be helping others. And maybe visiting all 35 of those “most amazing places” in the world.

Marianna Johnson has spent her career as a social worker and a certified health and fitness coach supporting people improve their quality of life.  She was raised in Northern Virginia and spent time living internationally with her Foreign Service family. She’s been an athlete throughout her life and is training for her first half Ironman race.
This post is paid for by AARP.

What We’ll Teach in the Future Hasn’t Been Invented Yet

Posted on by robbie

The question isn’t if a “100-year life” is coming, but how soon? It’s inevitable. I’m excited to think about living on this earth longer and having more opportunities to make a positive impact.
As co-founder of a business that offers training for in-demand skills, I think a lot about lifelong learning. The world is transforming so rapidly that jobs continually disappear and new ones appear. It used to be that traditional education was this thing you received in your youth. “College-educated” was an adjective you applied to yourself, and either you were or you weren’t.
But now, the skills you need throughout your life change. Those you need when you’re 25 years old look very different when you’re 35, 45, 55 or older. Your education should evolve throughout your entire life. To stay relevant, you need to adapt — always. The idea of a “100-year life” multiplies that reality even further.
Those who are living to be 100 years old – assuming that they’re productive and healthy – will no longer retire in their 60s. Instead, they’ll have opportunities to witness more economic shifts and discover more opportunities for lifelong learning.
The idea that you have one profession throughout your lifetime will go away. Instead, people will have a kaleidoscope of careers. Think of it: “In my 20s, I was a digital marketer, in my 30s, a programmer, in my 40s, I was flying cars… ”
Your learning and career should go hand in hand, not “first you get educated, then you have a career.”

If you’re living to 100 – or more – it’s hard to predict what you might be doing in your later years. My company, General Assembly, is teaching certain programming language that’s popular now, in 2017. What we’ll be teaching in the future likely hasn’t been invented yet.
Still, as a society, we’ll need to ensure that we’re doing what humans are fundamentally best at. To me, that means focusing on areas of creativity. To be human is to create. For a 100-year life, I hope that means creating as much as possible, be it art, music, community or a new business.
Despite all the technological advances we have to look forward to, I don’t see them competing with raw human creativity anytime soon. Or with the potential for deep relationships. As people get older, they need more care — something that can’t be done with a robot, app or website.
The idea of living to 100 is exciting to me. I’m alive during some of the most quickly evolving times in history, and I’d be able to experience more of that.
But I do have fears about where the world is headed. I worry about climate change, the geopolitical climate and the potential for war, strife and famine. How will humans living longer further tax the planet? How will it impact our economy? How much of this “extra” time will we spend in ill health?
At 100, would I simply be another person taking from the world? That doesn’t feel morally just to me. I feel it’s a privilege to be alive, healthy and conscious, pursuing my passion. With that gratitude comes a big sense of responsibility for leaving the planet a better place than I found it.
If I’m able to live to that age, I’d want to still be doing something positive and meaningful. The idea of retiring in the traditional sense doesn’t appeal to me. I don’t ever want to stop creating and working. I also want to relax and enjoy life as much as possible; that’s the additional piece of the puzzle. But it would be unfortunate if we’re only able to extend our lives, not the years that we’re active and healthy. I want to be able to travel, volunteer and have deep relationships.
Not that we should throw all that stuff to the end of our lives. Cultural consciousness is already moving away from that idea now. In my work, I interact with people in their 50s and 60s who are taking classes, learning new skills and starting their own businesses. They’re not saying, “I’m too old to go back to school.” They’re not stuck in a job because they feel it’s too late to change. They don’t feel like they’re past their prime, which is inspiring to me.
And who knows? Maybe five years from now, they’ll try something else new.
We all have the ability to plug in and become relevant, no matter what stage of life we’re in. We also have the opportunity to be as present as possible. If I get to live longer, I don’t want to value time any less. To me, there’s no point in taking 80 years of existence and simply spreading it out to 100.
The more we can educate, uplift and empower each other, the better chance we have of not just living to be 100 years old, but saving the world.

Matthew Brimer is an creative instigator, social entrepreneur and community builder. He is the co-founder of General Assembly, a 21st century educational institution with campuses and clients around the world, and the co-founder of Daybreaker, a global community and lifestyle brand producing conscious morning dance experiences across the globe. He is also an advisor and angel investor in a handful of early-stage startups.
This post is paid for by AARP.