Sheltering at Home. May 9, 2020
I’m 78 years old, and I still have a lot of living to do. Books to write. Grandchildren’s graduations to attend. A husband to love and to spat with. Grown children to give the motherly support I believe they still deeply need. Quiet moments on Planet Earth to claim as my own.
I’m not ready to die.
I repeat. I’m not ready to die.
Yes, the economy is suffering under the coronavirus pandemic shut-downs. And people — businesses, poor people, people who have been living paycheck to paycheck — are suffering.
Am I Expendable?
But does that make me expendable? Does that make millions of other older folks around the world expendable? How about the people with health conditions — are they not important? Are they not living human beings with life pleasures, big and small, still before them?
We are very much alive, we 65-plussers. We have a lot to live for, even if our knees are creaky and we’re not as quick with the flashy repartees as we were in our perky 20s, 30s, 40s and 50s.
We are still here, even if most of us are retired and no longer wield much power in the public square and the marketplace.
We Get in the Way
We are very much alive and, in many ways, keener than ever. But we are getting in the way. Which means, for some — some — of the people out there still running things, we need to be invisible. We need to be put aside as inconvenient statistics — not living, breathing humans with hopes and joys, and loved ones still in need of being loved.
Ezekiel Emanuel, an appointee to Biden’s COVID task force, has me worried. Six years ago at the tender age of 62, he declared that he didn’t really want to live past age 75. He’d have lost his powers, he wouldn’t have much to contribute to society, and it would not be worth treating any medical conditions he might come down with after 75.
Does that include COVID? Has he, since making this puerile statement, noticed that his new boss is 78?
Open the Windows and Let the Virus In?
I tuned into a Zoom fitness class the other day. The teacher was taking a woo-woo, New Age-y approach to the deadly coronavirus. “Just open the windows,” she was telling her class. “Let the virus in.”
I wanted to unmute my Zoom mic and say, “Hey, what about me? Opening the windows too wide and too soon could kill me.” Instead, I clicked Exit Meeting, and left the class, unheard.
I’d been feeling marginalized lately, by many of the people making decisions — the thought leaders, the power brokers, the meat packers, the political leaders — and now, a fitness instructor.
It seems that, to some, I don’t count.
I’m Not Dead Yet — And I Do Matter
But I do count — to me. As far as I can tell, I’m not dead yet. No where near it.
For some years now, my plan has been to keep on going till I’m 100. I’d break the family record, held by my grandmother who died at 99 years and 11 months; I’d make it to the 100 mark in 2041. By my calculations, if the coronavirus doesn’t take me out, I’ve got a crack at 22 more years of good life.
I still have a lot of living to do. My to-do list goes on for pages. Lots of plans, responsibilities, joys and surprises ahead for me. I’m 78 years old and I’m still valuable to a lot of people and — hear this — to myself.
More on the getting-older thing at “The Shame of Aging: The Big Seven-Five Has Finally Arrived.” If you’re in the mood for another rant from me, tune in to “James Dobson: Bully Your Pet. Hit Your Kid. Make Them Obey You — And God.”
If you’d like to keep up with my regular posts, it’s easy to join the conversation.
I really liked this blog post. It was from a perspective we (or at least I) rarely get to hear from now. Thanks for this inspiring and thought-provoking contribution.
Thanks, Lindsey. We 65-plusses have to speak up and be heard. We matter, too.
You betcha! It’s the elders in times of crisis who have the wisdom, often the emotional tools and information, we all need to come out of something like this on the other side. It’s the mix of the tools, information, spirit and wisdom of the younger and older who find solutions. It’s the elders who often find ways to take care of the really important emotional, soulful, wise-filled things so often overlooked as a harried parent when you’re in the midst of an upending crisis.
Thank you, Barbara. Good for your exiting that Zoom meeting for being clear about that to-do list. This is turn in the road, not a dead end. ❤
Spot on!
So,, what do you suggest?
Sue.
There is no black and white formula for reopening our economy and society — which makes it so hard for some people, who’d like a quick and clear resolution.
There was a really good article in the New York Times outlining a strategy the author calls “the hammer and the dance.” First, you hammer the epidemic with strict social distancing practices. Then you let up carefully and thoughtfully, reversing course if infection rates increase too much. This is the dance.
https://medium.com/@tomaspueyo/coronavirus-the-hammer-and-the-dance-be9337092b56
Here in California, especially in the six Bay Area counties, the hammer and dance plan seems to be the way forward. Our counties were the first to shut down, and now they are opening gradually, with an eye on any rise in new cases.
Our house remodel is a good example. Our contractor shut down completely for a time. And now they are back at work with strict guidelines in place. For example, when they install a new window on our top floor, Jon and I will be completely cut off from that floor (and our clothes closet!). Normally we would have access to that floor; only dust and equipment would deter us. But our contractor insists that they have to close off the space to everyone but the designated workers, who have to sign in every day, and clean the equipment and the site every day, wear masks, etc.
In other words — what to do is not simple. It takes a lot of expertise on the part of government regulators, and a lot of willingness to cooperate on the part of businesses and citizens. Not simple, but reasonable and doable.
As a person over 65, I’m for the hammer and dance strategy. It allows for the economy to reopen — gradually — while keeping the spread of the virus to a minimum. It keeps hospitals from being overrun. And — the longer we can keep the virus at bay, the more people might be protected eventually by the hoped-for vaccine.
Hell yeah!