"Survival Is Not Enough" for Elders

Fellow elderblogger, Kalilly, who writes at: https://www.kalilily.net/ has launched with several colleagues a petition to urge the Congressional Task Forces on Aging to devise and recommend funding for a plan to provide subsidies that enable remodeling of old outdated facilities and the constructions of new models of affordable senior housing that meet the needs of older adults for safety, comfort, and personal connections she notes.

"Survival is not Enough"  "The crisis in affordable and humane housing for seniors is rapidly increasing. According to Bloomberg, “By 2034, the Census Bureau projects that the US will be home to more people over 65 than people under 18. Finding safe and affordable housing for this fast-growing segment of the population is becoming an urgent task, as the number of 65-and-over residents who are considered cost-burdened reached record highs in 2021, while federal housing subsidies only reached 36.5% of older households who were eligible.”

This certainly seems a pertinent issue with our aging population experiencing homelessness for so many as this nation has.    You are invited to read, sign the petition if you find it to be of interest at https://www.change.org/ImproveSeniorHousing and share with others as well.

LANGUAGE SETS AN OPTIMISTIC MOOD

Consider with me whatever these thoughts surfacing in my mind during this pandemic may prompt you to think about in your own lives.  I think I am blessed with a somewhat optimistic outlook on life as I consider my situation, that of the current world and especially in my own country, the U.S.   I don't know why I tend toward an optimistic perspective, whether it's genetic, environmental, or due to other unknown factors.  Maybe it's the water I drink.

My mother mostly modeled positivity with a considerable dose of stoicism through circumstances she experienced in her lifetime including during the previous 1918 flu pandemic.  Years later we shared some unexpected significant life changes beginning when I was only a child to which we adapted.  I was able to observe her demeanor, how she coped, acquiring increasing appreciation and understanding for how she managed as I became an adult.

In my mother's case, her religious faith coupled with the secure foundation of her farm family upbringing were strong influences for her coping mechanisms in a very different time from that of my own generation.  Her religious/spiritual beliefs were personal, private, non-extremist, devoid of politicization.  They were not the kind pressed on me or others, a practice which might be better for all today to clearly separate church from state.

My life has been presented with its share of complications of varied complexities beginning when I was very young, so I have had adversities to address before, a few of which, unfortunately, could even be characterized as traumatic.  Fortunately, without denying such, I still developed an overall outlook somewhat like this song's lyrics.  (Much to my surprise I discovered among name vocal artists recordings a version by actor/director Clint Eastwood, not known as  a singer.)

Particularly during this pandemic time as I hear and read about many having all sorts of difficulties adapting and coping, I am grateful to feel fairly comfortable with how I have been able to manage, at least to date.  I do know what exists today is no guarantee for what the future may hold.  Certainly, my circumstances have not been without challenges as I age, incur some unexpected medical issues, and practice living in place in my home with no family nearby and too many friends long since deceased.

Also, anyone reading this blog knows I have very real concerns about the state of our government, our nation and the world.  I have ample reasons to be emotionally depressed, negative in attitude, even feel overwhelmed with the future's uncertainty.  For whatever the reasons, generally speaking, I do not feel that way though I am acutely aware of the potential for worse case scenarios both personally and with our country, even the world.  I do not ignore any of them, but they generally do not press on me emotionally though I do have my moments.

I try to consider what my options are in order to be as prepared as possible mentally and otherwise for what might occur which I've attempted to do throughout my life with varying degrees of success.  Beyond all that, knowing there are factors over which I have no influence, I simply go on with my daily life much as most of you probably do, too.  Always, the unexpected may occur, does and has, which is just a given, but I'll not fret about it.

A board game I had growing up was called "Pollyanna", the glad game, though I don't recall that I ever read the book which prompted the games creation.  I do know the name has become associated with describing someone "excessively cheerful and optimistic who wants to pretend life is all sweetness and light" as defined in Oxford Languages.  I certainly know life is not "all sweetness and light" as I'm sure you do, too.

Though I've never been accused of being a "Pollyanna" and never thought of my outlook on life as being excessively optimistic, some might not differentiate the nuances in meaning.  But don't confuse my type of optimism with that version prostituted to the extreme by our nation's leader's prevarications -- bald-faced optimistic-like lies.  

I do think between this pandemic,  how it's been handled, the general state of the nation and the world with the creeping autocracies featuring fascism ideologies, racism, environmental planet preservation issues, other inequities that a whole lot of negativity has been created.  This negativity permanating our lives can be as contagious as a self-replicating virus and we know something about that now, don't we.  

So, when I express some potential optimism and hope for the future I do so fully cognizant of the immediate reality, possible implications in the present and time to come.  (Countermanding this "permanating negativity" here's Steven Wilson's tune "Permanating" he performs with the Bollywood Dancers to lighten the mood.)

Positive Psychology  discusses that Pollyanna Principle but also notes "A tendency to be optimistic and find a silver lining does impact health and well-being" in beneficial ways as I think we need to keep reminding ourselves.  I think science and we can readily conclude the degree to which one is optimistic does have some bearing on the quality of our lives, though I wonder how many people agree with that view in practice.

I think the ability to find and envision reasons to be optimistic, thus have hope for our future, is vital to our mental, emotional and physical health.  I also believe the language we choose to use describing situations to others and to tell ourselves, especially, has some bearing on the attitude we create, thus influencing how well we cope.  (I rather like this version of jazzy sentiments Paul McCartney sings with artist Diana Krall and her musical group to convey the message.)

There are various means we can use to best adapt to whatever our situation.  Resilience is a means defined by numerous dictionaries and psychologists as our being pragmatic, able to adapt, withstand and recover from significant stressful events, adversity, trauma, threats, to return back into shape.  We're all mustering our resilience to survive this pandemic, our governmental and world situation as well as our own challenges.

I find being resilient, even stoic for a limited period of time, beneficial.  Combined with a degree of humor, being realistically optimistic without rigidly specifying a specific time when all will be resolved or overcome, can be a healthy approach to survival.  

Critical, too, is having hope for the future, again without defined timelines given the uncertainty, optimizes my overall wellbeing to travel the adversity of any rough and rugged road ahead.

I wonder how others view the manner they approach what they do to effectively deal with life's adversities, be it this pandemic or other experiences including from the past -- if either optimism or hope are present in your life now and as compared to other times?

ADAPTATION--SURVIVAL--MOURNING

Reflecting on my life I think I lived quite a remarkable length of time – traveled many miles.   I hadn’t realized my dying would be noteworthy, but am even more surprised overhearing just how much I’m missed.    I have to tell you, I don’t mind the eternal rest I’m experiencing.    Life hasn’t been easy as I reflect on my past.

I recall my pride at being chosen in my youthful prime over many others by a very discerning older couple to take up residence in their suburban ranch style home.   I’d only resided there a little over a year when they were replaced by a much younger newly married couple.   We became comfortable companions so after only a couple years or so, I was chosen to join them in an unexpected odyssey.   

This travel required my being removed from the only real home I’d known.   Initially, I was relegated with a number of others from our home to a small dark windowless area where we were all pressed up against one another for a several months period of uncertainty as to our future.  

Just as I was giving up hope of seeing daylight again, the others and I were all suddenly loaded onto a large vehicle of some sort for a several hour ride to another location.  We were removed and I was again in an environment where I could function as I was intended.  

This was an exciting time as I became aware a new little being – cooing, gurgling, making crying sounds, loud and noisy at times – had taken up permanent residence in our household.    

But not quite a year later I was again subjected to having my interior being emptied, then I was loaded into a huge vehicle, only this time the ride I took was weeks long-g-g.  Other than my first Midwest Great Lakes residence, the southwestern state where I ended up this time was probably the most ideal for me once my interior was properly cleaned and refreshed.   

My memories remind me of  the special pleasure several years later when I once again heard the ooing, ah-h-h-ing, grunting, babbling and more noisy sounds indicating another little one was joining our home.  Meanwhile, I had enjoyed the first little being’s hands occasionally pressed against me, steadying for walking about, or prying fingers trying to figure out how to access my interior, gradually become more independent.   Then there was the birthday party with young neighbor friends and that fancy decorated chocolate lion cake made from scratch.

There was lots of activity and I really felt I was an important part of life there.     I faced a west window so regularly witnessed the fading day’s light, shades of sunset reds sweeping across the sky before emerging sparkling stars appeared.  

I recall one time of enormous vibrating cacophony, seeing shells clinging to tree trunks, the day after the living noisy cicada departed.  Their single isolated sound had been steady, never-ending, created as pictured here, but multiplied by thousands -- deafening.

I also saw power-stopping lightning, heard sharp ear-splitting thunder and witnessed horrendous rainy downpours.    One anxiety-filled occasion occurred when a hundred year flood was triggered by a downpour which desert sandy grounds could not absorb fast enough, allowing water to rise to a level seeping under doors into the house interior.  Fortunately, the water was prevented from creeping into my area, mechanism and motor. 

There was one occasion I was glad to be protected indoors when in the distance I could see an awesome dark cloud filling the sky -- rolling closer and closer, becoming blacker and blacker, finally encompassing the whole house as the cloud passed overhead.  Outdoors, a few dirty grey moisture drops splattered over everything. Inside, a thin. light, covering-everything residue was the gift blown in by this dust storm. 

More pleasant times allowed me to feel my whole being to be of use and value.  This occurred when various baking tins were placed on the top of my exterior, just below a cabinet – a perfect warm location, out of drafts, for sour dough, whole wheat and other yeasty rolls/bread dough to rise before their aroma permeated the air in baking.   

Those years lasted only half-a-decade.   Another move for this family was in the offing.  I didn’t know I almost was left behind on that move, so when I was unloaded from what has ultimately proved to be my last large vehicle ride, to be placed outside, in a garage, I was totally unprepared this less than ideal location would become permanently mine.

. 

Over forty years have passed.   I long ago came to the realization that my value to the family was to be exactly where I was -- in the garage.  Summers were hot – sometimes over a hundred degrees, but at least I was protected from the sun’s direct rays.   Winters only occasionally would be below freezing temperatures, but I was protected from those cold effects, too. 

 

Once I reconciled myself to make the most of my situation, I began to feel quite proud during those years.  On two different occasions when the units inside the home, where I previously always had been, ceased working, I came to the rescue.    In those emergencies I was able to take into my interior all their contents – frozen foods did not thaw, milk did not sour, food did not spoil.   Both of those inside units had been purchased new, had worn out, one replacing the other, while I – much older – who had been moved, drug about, coast to coast -- kept doing my job, never once even requiring service or repair.   

Finally, early in 2017, I just became exhausted.   I’ve been working 24/7 well over half a century -- with no repairs or even any service provided.   I’ve just – finally – stopped working.   Maybe my mechanism could be given first aid of some sort, tuned up, repaired in some way – maybe not.   But, I just want to be allowed to permanently rest now.  My exterior appearance, sometimes neglected due to other priorities -- but not because of the families lack of caring -- decidedly reflects the wear of years.  I know I'll be taken from here, but I'm ready.   Wherever I’m taken, I hope that some part of me, if not all, can be recycled. 

RIP Hotpoint Refrigerator 1962-2017