 
|
||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
              
|
Growing old gracefully (cont.) Dealing with loss Gamer’s aplomb in talking about everything from her finances to her final wardrobe is a trait she shares with other senior women. While the experts worry about the big picture, especially the fragile economic state of many of the oldest women, the women themselves go about their daily lives without dwelling on the downside. "I’ve been poor for so long, I don’t know that I’m poor," says Myrtle Hardy, who is in her 90s and has made her way by wheelchair to a weekly discussion group called "creative thinking" at the Eastern Area Adult Services Center in Turtle Creek. She and six other women had just finished sharing observations around the day’s theme ("Something that started as a negative but turned into a positive") when the discussion took a different turn.
Lottie Olen, who had brought fresh-cut flowers from her fall garden to brighten the room, wondered what they would all do without the Social Security benefits each depends on. Ever the historian of the group, she proclaims, "Look how far President Roosevelt reached" in establishing Social Security. "He reached all the way into our future. What would we do without our income?" For Olen, who was widowed almost three years ago at 82, that income, coupled with good health, has allowed her to continue the independent life she craves. She lives alone in the well-kept six-room house in Churchill that she and her husband raised their three children in. Her miniature dachshund Chester is her "little buddy" when she’s at home, which isn’t often, given her mix of outside interests. She still drives – to her daughter’s farm in Greene County, to women’s club meetings in Churchill, art group meetings at her church and activities at the senior center. She’s been involved in a program that invites senior citizens into the schools to read to young students. "When my husband was so sick, I dropped everything. I was in that hospital with him every day for three months," she says in a generous, lilting voice that seems to define the word grandmotherly. "Afterwards, I took a little time out. I was just so tired. Everything just sort of floored me. Then I started rejoining things. It was like I got a second wind." The ability of most women to "move on" in old age, to reshape a jostled life after the death of a spouse, a close friend or even an adult child — a blow Olen has faced — is one of the biggest differences between the aging sexes. "Women at all stages of life have a larger web of relationships that they call on more regularly than men do," says Elizabeth O. Burgess, assistant professor of sociology at Georgia State University and co-chair of the women’s issues group of the Gerontological Society of America. "When a spouse or loved one dies or is incapacitated, the ability to connect with others is almost intuitive for women, but not for men. Men are more likely to turn inward, to founder. "Both sexes grieve, of course. Losing a loved one is traumatic for anyone. But women are trained to reach out and that helps the healing." Independent living Moving on emotionally is one thing, but going it alone on finances, household decisions and health issues is quite another for many women. Women of the generation that is now old generally left "big" decisions to their husbands or, if they were single, to male family members. After their spouses die, their education begins. A tight money situation makes the learning process more difficult. "Many of the women we talk to here are struggling," says Eunice Boyd, associate director of senior services for the Hill House. "They didn’t know much about the family finances, and when their husband passed, they found out they were in worse shape than they thought. Many have old insurance policies from back in the days when $3,000 or $4,000 sounded like a lot of money. Now, it may not even cover burial expenses. "A lot of what we do here is try to educate people. We try to make them aware of the services available to ease their burdens." Boyd’s purview is the Hill District, one of Pittsburgh’s poorest neighborhoods. Many of the people she serves are living on small Social Security payments only. They’re sometimes residing in homes that need a lot of work in a neighborhood that frightens and isolates them because of its high crime rate. "We have a lot of things going on here that aren’t typical of other neighborhoods. Our seniors face some additional challenges, but I think everyone who works in this field has the same goal — to help people stay safe and independent for as long as possible." Accomplishing that goal, even in Pittsburgh’s more stable neighborhoods, is a challenge, however.
Jean Gamer and Lottie Olen still are comfortably independent in their own homes, but frugality rules. Gamer had to dip into an emergency fund when it came time to pay school taxes last summer, and Olen said covering an unexpected roof repair had her watching her pennies for a while. Bigger emergencies on the home or health front could put them on a path they don’t want to tread: having to consider other living arrangements. "The oldest generation of elderly — and that includes mostly women — has little to fall back on financially," says Burgess. "That leaves them at economic risk if any sort of catastrophe hits." Paul Kleyman, editor of Aging Today, a newspaper published by the American Society on Aging, says many of today’s elderly are house rich but cash poor. And while government and other programs trumpet the goal of keeping elderly in their homes for as long as possible, they’ve come up with few preventive and coordinated ways to do that, he says. Help for the elderly tends to be crisis-driven, say Kleyman and others. Programs and agencies are geared to deal with "disasters" — a drastic turn in health, a roof that’s about to collapse over someone’s head — not to prevent those disasters from happening. Darlene Burlazzi, who is bureau chief of direct services for the county’s Agency on Aging, calls the approach a "bath of fire." "Too often, our first contact with people is when they’re in real crisis," she says.
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
