Skip to Content

No comments yet

STYLE AND GRACE

Lessons in Making Life Work

BY:MARTHA L.

My 93-year-old brother, Nate, and my 96-year-old sister-in-law, Rosalie, have demonstrated perfectly how to age gracefully. It starts with humor, with Nate’s standard line invariably getting a laugh: “I always liked older women—and the older she gets, the more I like her.”

 

I visited them recently and must confess I was apprehensive when my brother insisted on picking me up at the notoriously hectic Los Angeles airport. But he was there promptly, and the 40-minute ride to their house through heavy traffic was pleasant, law-abiding and uneventful.

 

Not long into my visit, I could see why their lifestyle was enormously successful. They believe in adaptability, doing whatever they can for as long as they can, then accepting the need to make changes when the old way is no longer practical or possible. Nate confided that he voluntarily limited his freeway and nighttime driving, knowing that his reflexes probably aren’t what they were when he was younger—“like when I was only 80 years old,” he says.

 

Just after Rosalie’s ninetieth birthday, she began having difficulty climbing stairs, a common ailment for seniors. This presented a serious problem since they have a big two-story house and they both were eager to remain there. The solution—a “stair climber” that allows her to sit in a specially designed chair attached to the wall and, with the click of a button, climbs the stairs for her.


Then, five years later, when my brother’s arthritic knee made stair-climbing an issue for him as well—and forced him to finally abandon his beloved golf—another adjustment was made. Leaving the upstairs bedrooms and baths for visiting family and friends, Nate and Rosalie remodeled the downstairs into a master-bedroom suite. The new bathroom accommodates a chair, so they can sit whenever necessary, and the oversize shower has a bathing seat and grips on every wall. Then they converted the dining room into a space for reading, TV and computer use (yes, Nate’s a computer nerd).

 

They also modified their eating habits. Breakfast is modest and lunch finds them searching to see what the refrigerator may offer, including leftovers in doggy bags from the previous evening’s dinner at a favorite restaurant. And each weekend their daughter, Helen, who lives an hour away, arrives with a fully prepared meal for all to enjoy and enough left over to provide several meals the following week.

 

The point is, they are happy they’re together—68 years last July 4—and that, with a little help, they are taking care of themselves. They’ve reluctantly given up some volunteer activities, including delivering Meals on Wheels, but Rosalie still meets with her book club (down to three members from its original 40) and Nate still enjoys a weekly bridge session with his buddies and using his power tools in his workshop.

 

That’s not to say everything is perfect. They each have had their share of ailments and both have hearing problems. Sometimes their conversations sound like a modern version of that old Abbot and Costello routine, “Who’s on first?”

 

Rehashing the past is not something they spend much time doing. They’d rather keep abreast of current news, read extensively and, via snail mail and e-mail, stay in touch with friends around the world. Nate expresses his concern and/or annoyance with political attitudes by writing letters to the editor of the Los Angeles Times, and he’s pleased the letters are printed unedited. Both Nate and Rosalie “needle” each other often, laugh frequently and hold hands a lot, too.

 

The two of them are blessed with good mental health and a strong bond with their supportive children. They gracefully accept change and—perhaps most importantly—they each have a great sense of humor.

 

Editor’s Note: Sadly, Rosalie recently passed away, having celebrated her ninety-sixth birthday a few weeks earlier. The staff of Caring Today extends their condolences to her entire family and is proud to run this piece in celebration of a life well lived.