I recently opened the door of a bakery/café and no sooner had I stepped in, I saw a thirty-something man pushing a baby carriage toward the door. So, I took two steps back and held the door open for him. It was an involuntary gesture I do often, and people do it for me. But what happened next was a first for me.
He said, “I can’t let an older person hold the door for me.” So, I shut the door, and he awkwardly struggled to open it and pull the carriage through the door.
For some reason I smiled. Maybe because I have the exact opposite attitude when it comes to interacting with older people. I would want someone older than me who could do it with no strain to open a door for me. Let them feel that they are helping. Let them feel that they are an active part of the world where everything isn’t just done for them.
After all, I had managed to open the door for myself to get in. I could certainly open it again. (Let me add that I know he meant well.)
In contrast, a few days later I was walking into another bakery and again saw a thirtysomething man approaching the exit. I held the door open and motioned for him to come out, and he, with an appreciative smile, motioned for me to come in first. Like the man in the first incident, he did not want me to hold the door for him. But unlike the first man, he said nothing to call attention to what I allegedly shouldn’t be doing.
It turned out in the second case that we held the door for each other and he thanked me.
It is so important not to minimize what we think a person can do based solely on their age and their condition.
A big mistake I once made: Many years ago, at a senior home I was working at, there was a woman whom I’ll call Sara who was escorted around in a wheelchair.
One morning, I saw that she had managed to get to the back office where there was a beautiful, ornate grandfather clock that hadn’t worked in a long time. I saw Sara’s eyes bulge when she saw this masterpiece of timekeeping, and what I saw next greatly alarmed me. She got up from her chair and walked to the face of the clock and started moving some things around. I immediately went over to her and said, “You shouldn’t be getting up. You could hurt yourself.”
As I gently escorted her back to her chair, she said, “I thought I could fix it.” Later that day I thought that maybe I had missed a great opportunity to help her renew her past skill of fixing clocks. I could have asked her what she wanted to do, and if it were reasonable, I could have stood right next to her, arms at the ready to hold on to her if she started to fall.
I didn’t want her to hurt herself, but sometimes it hurts more to be denied opportunities for enjoyable, meaningful experiences.
I have tried not to make that mistake again.
Over the years in my work with seniors, I have pushed the envelope without pushing the seniors too far. At Ateret Avot, where I am director of recreation, I have a different resident volunteer every Friday and give a d’var Torah. For some, who have difficulty speaking a sentence or more or remembering what they want to say, I have been fortunate to guide them with questions toward their strengths. Attendees and family members are thrilled to see what their loved ones can do.
I have seen the joy on a 95-year-old woman’s face when I taught her how to use a computer for the first time. And I have seen the sweet smile on a 90-year-old woman’s face when, with my guidance, she completes singing “America the Beautiful” and everyone applauds enthusiastically. Why the enthusiasm? Because she has dementia and barely utters more than a few words. Others in attendance didn’t think she could do it. But there’s no telling what a person can do when you find their comfort zone and create the right environment for them to succeed.
As a person ages, some and maybe more of what they used to be able to do may be lost to them. That’s why it is vitally important for them to keep doing what they can do, so that they can feel like a productive member of their family, their circle of friends, and the world around them.