And Why Not?

Last week, we filled a bus with elders and staff and headed off to Coney Island.  Granted, our location in Northern New Jersey makes a trip to Coney Island less daunting than if we were in, say, Florida, but taking a bus filled with nursing home and assisted living residents on a major outing is no small thing.

We packed up wheelchairs and walkers, first aid kits and bag lunches, water and snacks galore.  We made sure everyone had hats and covered exposed faces and arms with sunscreen.  We looked as if we were going camping for a month, rather than an afternoon at the beach, but nothing we did was without thought or planning.

Traffic in the New York area is never great, and midday is often just as grueling as rush hour.  We were on the bus for 90 long minutes and all of us were getting a little restless. But when we finally arrived, unloaded and made our way to the boardwalk, all of the work was worth it.

Our elders were beaming as they caught sight of the beach and the ocean.  They raised their faces to the bright sun and seemed to find it different than the sun they feel outside on our campuses.  We heard a lot of “Isn’t it beautiful?” But even more than that, we heard memories.  We heard about growing up in Coney Island. We heard about weekend days spent on the beach, about the role this place played in their youth.  The smiles were radiant, and all the hard work felt totally worthwhile.

When I mentioned our expedition to someone later in the week, they were astonished and said so.  This is a person whose work is related to senior services so, I confess, I was surprised by the comment.  He went on to say how great it was that we “do things like this” for our elders.

My response was immediate and automatic.  “Why wouldn’t we?” I asked.  “Our work is to enhance lives of those we care for, so why wouldn’t we?” One of the misperceptions of senior services providers is that we are just places to care for, and contain, older adults.  It’s a view that sees elders as diagnoses or room numbers or “those people” and does not recognize that we are caring for individuals, people with preferences and history and wisdom and purpose.

Not every day is a trip to Coney Island. But every day is an opportunity to enrich the lives of elders, whether they live in a residential community or they are individuals in your life.  What makes them happy? What things do they like to do? What matters to them?  We can use that knowledge to connect them with activities, to spark memories, to share moments that have meaning.  When we fail to do that, we have not just failed the elder, we have failed ourselves.